


Inseparable

by LilacPrince



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: BS Garon, Before Slime Garon, Child Abuse, I'mma tag it as BS Garon from now on, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Pre-possessed Garon, this got longer than expected (again)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacPrince/pseuds/LilacPrince
Summary: Camilla and Xander are insperable. No matter what happens, they will always remain best friends. They'll always be there for each other. No matter what.---A pre-canon look at the childhood of two children so similair yet so different, what happens when two innocents get caught in the crossfire of a battle they have no power over, and how the sins of adults are pushed onto children. But also of survival, friendship, and how happiness can still be found in the corners of overwhelming misery.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Autumn's Rise and Fall

**Author's Note:**

> A couple things I want to clarify:  
> This is before Garon became the slime monster we all know and hate, and in the middle of the concubine wars. Garon will therefore have another personality than he has in canon.  
> Xander and Camilla are somewhere around 11 and 8 years old respectively. Keep in mind this is only vaguely tho, as I really don't understand how the timeline in this game is supposed to go. I don't think the writers know either. *shrug*  
> I will also add a few tags in the notes before later chapters, so you all know what is going on for that particular chapter.

Camilla and Xander were inseparable.

For as long as Camilla could remember, she and Xander had been best friends. They had done everything together. They had rushed through the hallways playing tag, dodging around servants, their laughter echoing against the stone roof high above their heads. They had hidden together in the secret passageways going through the castle to escape their nannies, guards and Camilla's mother. They had playfully sparred together, acting out famous battles before one of them collapsed dramatically down on the grass. No matter what, they were always there for each other. They comforted one another, made each other laugh, and together ran off to play pranks. They were always together.

They were inseparable.

\---

Castle Krakenburg was grand. It was one of the biggest structures in Nohr, an architectural masterpiece, placed into the underground remains of an old vulcano. Lava circulated around through the castle, burning hot blood carried through pipes of iron, warming the residents up and providing light through it all. Around the castle Windmire circled itself out like rings on water. The biggest city in Nohr, with the castle at its heart, dancing to the rhythm of the castle's pulse. Xander had always adored it, had said once that it made him feel connected; to the people, the habitants of both the castle and Windmire, to the land itself. But to Camilla...

The castle felt like a grave. A suffocating cage in black stone, iron veins pumping orange blood. The window from her room only granted her a view of the high walls that climbed up, far up in the sky. Everyday she climbed further up through the castle, struggling to get to the top, finding the balconies and gardens as far up as possible. Because it was there she could see the sky stretching up far above her. It was there she could see the stars. It was there she could sense the world that was lying at the tip of her fingers, if only she could reach it. Sometimes she could even see the wyvern riders fly by above her, either going away on missions or coming back home, the wind rustling through their hair and their hands clutching the worn reins. Camilla wondered what it would be like to fly.

Even though the castle felt like a cage, it was a cage not only built by black iron and lava, but by gold and smiles. The golden rings her mother wore, those that were a gift from Garon from long ago. The golden curls that adorned so many other children in the castle, but that Camilla could never get. The golden frames on the portraits in the halls, that displayed all the royals over the past centuries, but not Camilla. Never Camilla. The smiles of beautiful women that were standing too close to her father. The smiles of the children, the blonde children, whenever they received praise for magic or fighting skills that Camilla could never quite get the hang of. The stiff smile of her mother, the one during galas and social gatherings, when she dug her nails painfully into Camilla's shoulder and stared at some strange woman. All those things that made up Camilla's life, all the things that tied her mother to the castle, and that caged Camilla in it.

But it was at least a comfortable cage. Big, and with many secrets waiting to be discovered, and a brother that was happy to go on adventures with her. Whenever the collective heartbeat of guards, servants and nobles that inhabited the hallways and rooms, the pulse of the castle, became too deafening and overwhelming, the two of them escaped. The gates where everywhere, if only you knew where to look. Behind a certain drapery, hidden behind a bookshelf, closed unless you pushed just the right panel... And there they were. The entrances to the hidden passageways that ran through the castle. Some of them were lit up by the orange glow of pipes that ran through, carrying the lava. Some were pitchblack for as far as they eye could see. Some had smooth walls and floors. Some were made out of rough stone that had never been worked into something that would fit a royal castle. It was perfect for two children that had escaped their nannies' constant watch, a world just for the two of them to explore to their hearts' content. A moment away from the critical eye of nannies and teachers, or the poisoned smiles of nobles. So whenever they could they gathered a candle or two, found one of the entrances that wasn't under watch, and escaped.

Exploring the passageways was one of their favourite pastimes. Where they could they ran, their giggles echoing in the empty spaces. Some paths were marked in chalk from other outings, so that they remembered where they had been, and what was to be found there. Xander had tried drawing out a map, but had quickly abandoned the idea after finding how difficult it was. Camilla had never cared for maps, for her the fun was in exploring and finding where the paths lead.

One of these paths were the most frustrating and interesting one of them all, because of where it ended. Where most of the paths either lead to a dead end or a room, this one lead to neither and both at the same time. At the end of the passage, there was a flat wall. It was smooth wood, indicating that it lead to a room. But no matter how Xander and Camilla pushed or pressed or stomped they couldn't open it. They returned to the wall every now and then, determined to find the way through, but always had to return empty handed and with growing curiosity of where the passage could lead. At times they tried to find the room the other way, through the regular everyday rooms, but the passage was difficult to follow and they never could be sure which room it actually was. At times they were even unsure on if they were on the right floor, which lead to more frustration and more curiosity. 

Their constant running through the passageways and loud giggles didn't go completely unnoticed however. Every now and then a maid or guard heard the pitter patter of footsteps inside the walls, along with the childish giggles. Yet never did anyone connect it with the two royals, and instead rumours soon filled the castle about the ghosts that inhabited the walls. By the time the rumours reached Xander and Camilla they were already an integrated part of the castle, and knowing that they scared the inhabitants certainly didn't diminish their love of adventuring. Instead they pestered their nannies about the stories, eager to live up to the servants' expectations of the castle ghosts. The next time they sneaked through the passageways the idea of people thinking they were ghosts made their giggles extra loud, as they ran through the paths, excited to hear the newest stories that would be born. 

It was during one of these adventures that they found a treasure. While most of the passageways where narrow and eternally slithered through the castle, neverending, there were still exceptions. Most times when they lead somewhere the passageways would lead to the inhabited hallways and rooms that Xander and Camilla already were familiar with. Sometimes they lead to dead ends. But this time they lead to something Xander and Camilla had never seen before during their adventures.

After a long walk through a narrow hallway made up of smooth brick and rotten wood, and then up a broad staircase, they found it. A hall. It was vast, stretching out before them. The warm light from one of the pipes behind them wasn't enough to light up more than the entrance, and the rest of the room was shrouded in darkness. Camilla and Xander were frozen in the doorway, the light in their backs casting long shadows down over the dark floorboards. Xander's candle did futile attempts to light up the room, but most of it was a mystery shrouded in darkness and cobwebs. The dark wood creaked under Camilla's careful, testing steps out in the room, but they didn't succumb. They held steady, showing no sign of failing in their duty, and Camilla dared to dance further out in the room, dragging Xander with her.

"Ah, Camilla!" Xander gasped, struggling to keep the candle upright so no wax would drop on his fingers. "Careful!" 

"What's the point in being careful during adventures?" Camilla laughed, swirling through the dark room, her skirts billowing around her. But she did let go of Xander's hand, letting him stand still as she danced over the floorboards. Until her leg was caught by a chair that had been hiding in the dark, interrupting her swirls and sending her to the floorboards. The loud thud and "oof" that echoed in the room as her body landed on the floor was received with a cloud of dust that swept in the air around her. Xander remained standing where he was, watching the dust slowly settle back down on the floor and over his sister. 

"That's the point", he said as he walked up to Camilla and offered her a hand to help her up. Camilla stuck out her tongue at him, but did let him help her up. Well on her feet again she brushed the dust of her skirts, and glanced around her now that she had the help of the candle. It revealed old furniture, sloppily scattered around. A couple chairs were lying on the floor, their legs in the air. Rotting cushions and torn pillows were scattered around. The main piece was the old desk that was standing to the side with the chairs creating a sloopy half-circle around it. It was stiff and intimidating, but covered in dust, and when Xander placed his hand on it it wobbled, revealing that it was missing one of it's legs and could barely stand its own weight. It was a stark difference to the carefully designed rooms in the castle, where not a book was allowed out of place, any trace of dust and dirt quickly extinguished by the maids. All Camilla and Xander had to do was look at each other, and see the sparkles in each other's eyes, to know that they had found their new favourite spot. 

\----

Camilla loved her mother. Truly, she did. Cecilia was wellknown at court, and Camilla had many times heard servants and noble ladies call Cecilia "The Tempest". Camilla always became proud when she heard that.

Cecilia truly was a tempest in Camilla's eyes. She was beautiful, elegant and proper, but there was something terrifying underneath that always lured near the surface. Her calm demeanor could be as deceitful as the calm before the storm, suddenly switching over to storming rage if you didn't know the warning signs. She was as intimidating and terrifying as when the winds shook the castle, rattling the windows, and Camilla had to hide under the bed to feel some shred of safety. It was only fitting that Cecilia's most prominent magic was wind magic. Sometimes, when Cecilia was truly, truly, livid, the edge of her dress and the ends of her long hair would raise up as if caught in a sudden wind. It made her look even more beautiful, and even more terrifying. Camilla wanted to be like her mother. She wanted to be as beautiful, and as terrifying. She wanted to be able to will the wind to make her hair and dress fly. She wanted to be a storm, just like her mother. Cecilia wanted that too, always pushing Camilla to be the best she could be.

The problem was that it was difficult, and painful. Being beautiful took time every morning, endless time that she was forced to sit still in a chair while her nanny put on makeup and picked out jewelry. Heavy earrings that made her ears hurt and itch to take them out. Necklaces so tight that she couldn't run down the hallways without losing her breath. Dresses that was gorgeous, and proper, and elegant. But stiff, and uncomfortable, and made her skin itch. It made it difficult to run with Xander, it was nearly impossible to climb the trees anymore, and if she as much as tried to pick up a training sword dirt and stains would appear on her dress. Worst of all was the brushing.

Every morning, when her mother was already done and out the door, and Camilla was so close to get to go down for breakfast, she would be forced down in a chair. Her nanny would pick up a brush, and the brushing would begin. The nanny, Mary, would brush, brush, and brush Camilla's hair until it hurt and Camilla began to squirm in her chair.

"Sit still, milady!" Mary scolded.

"But it huuuurts", Camilla complained, but she remained in the chair.

"Pain is the recipe for beauty", Mary said with a decisive nod, and then continued brushing. In Camilla's eyes it truly was. Because the brushing was painful, and endless. The hairdos that Mary did were also painful, but at least they were quicker, and it meant that Camilla soon was allowed to go. As soon as the last pin was put in, and Mary let out a telltale relieved sigh, Camilla was out of the chair and running towards the door. She stopped, however, by the mirror. It was a large mirror that reached down to the floor, showing off her entire ensemble. How her lavish dress cascaded down to the floor, how the jewels glittered, how her hair looked silky and and shiny. Camilla grimaced, ruining the look of perfect beauty, and ran out the door. She was never, no matter how much Mary worked on her, as beautiful as her mother.

\---

Camilla's favourite time was the fall.

That was when the summer came to an end, when the nights got longer and darker, and the world turned into exciting colours. Cecilia loved the fall too. She always complained about the other seasons. The summer was too sickly sweet. The winter was too cruel and cold. Spring was worst of all. Prideful. Bountiful, and happy to show that off. The Winter's Ease ball, always held on First Bloom and the sign spring was upon Nohr, was the worst of them all. While everyone else was smiling and talking about how romantic it was, Cecilia was colder than ever. It was like the winter that lingered over the castle had taken root in her very soul. She could become livid over anything, especially the day of the ball, and Camilla spent her time in the secret passageways. Xander never attended the ball, so Camilla wasn't even able to hold his hand through it all. But fall? Fall was Cecilia's time. That was the time her mood was at its best, and as long as Camilla behaved, she could get away with a few more luxuries and sweets.

The harvest festival was the greatest day of the year. It was the time when everyone celebrated what the land had given them, when people honoured the dead, and when a huge ball was held in Castle Krakenburg. Every year her mother would dress her in a new costume, smiling and telling her how cute she looked, and that if she behaved nicely she would be allowed to have some treats. Every year Cecilia would be dressed in a lavish costume, and she would swirl around the room while humming a waltz to herself, like she couldn't wait for the ball. Every year her mother and father would dance together, and Camilla could stand by the buffet while she and Xander tried all of the new sweets for the year. Sometimes even Camilla would get to dance with her father, and once or twice she had managed to coax Xander out on the dancefloor with her as well. Her father was always in a good mood during the harvest festival, and he would laugh, smile and plant kisses on Cecilia's cheeks and the top of Camilla's head.

But even though Camilla adored the ball, her favourite part of the holiday was right before it. Every harvest festival, right before the ball, she and Xander would sneak away from their nannies and guards. Hand in hand they would sneak behind a wall drapery, and up a hidden staircase in the wall, nervously giggling to themselves as they made the long climb. Far up, the would find it. The huge, secret room that was placed right over the ballroom. It had old, dusty desks, and a few chairs with rotten stuffing, but it was quiet and still, and always the same. Together they ventured out to the middle of the room, and sat down on the carpet without rot, leaning against the desk. Sometimes they could hear the far off traces of music through the floor, the band warming up below them. Sometimes it was deadly quiet, the cold stone swallowing every sound. 

There they would light a candle, and settle down on opposite sides off it. A single candle, it's light fluttering against all the dark, struggling to keep itself from being swallowed. There was no chatter from servants, no clanking armor from the guards' movements, no birds making noises outside their windows. None of the sounds that constantly accompanied them through their daily lives. It was just them, together in the darkness, with nothing but a candle and each other for safety. They held hands, comforted by each other's presence, and in hushed, small voices that still echoed in the vast room, they told each other ghost stories. Every year they competed over who could have the better ghost story, gasping or letting out nervous giggles, as the light slowly burned through. They always only brought one candle with them, and when that one was done, they were left alone in the darkness.

Xander often had the best ones, but Camilla was never scared the way he got scared of hers. At least, she wasn't scared in that secret room. Later, when she was in her bed and trying to sleep, then she would be terrified. She would lie awake for nights on end, too scared to sleep, whimpering under her blanket with tears in her eyes. But in that room she was never scared. Because that room was so far removed, no one but them knew it existed. It was far off, where nothing scary would be able to find them even if it tried. She was safe there, in the space between the the darkness and the light, between the hallways full of light and the darkness outside them. She was as well hidden as if she didn’t exist. 

Every time, when they were done telling the ghost stories, they blew the candle out and stood up in the darkness. They held hands over the remains of the candle, looked up in the roof, and called out.

"Thank you for letting us stay! Have a good night!"

Then they would quickly, and as carefully as possible, make their way back to the stairs. They always left the candle, as an offering. Every year when they came back, the candle they had left the previous year was gone.

\---

Camilla's blade clashed with Xander's, and she spun to deliver a new blow, but Xander danced out of the way with an ease that annoyed her. As retort she quickly moved to deliver another blow, and another, and another. The frost laced the leaves under their boots, Camilla's heels slipping over the surface. A cold wind blew over the training grounds, rousing the leaves to swirl around the playing children. Snow was in the air, and it wouldn't be long until their plays would be limited to the insides of the castles. But for now they could laugh together as their training swords clashed.

"I am the Fell Dragon Grima!" Camilla roared, pointing her sword at her brother. "Kneel before me, mortal!"

"Never!" Xander shouted back, choking on laughter as he clutched his own sword. "For I am the Exalt, and I will end your destructive reign!"

"You don't stand a chance!"

Camilla lunged forward over the wet leaves, her sword raised, letting out a the battle cries of the dragons. But her cry was cut short, dissolving into a genuine shriek as her heel slipped out from underneath her, throwing her down in the leaves. Her golden bracelet dug painfully into her skin from the impact, and her shoulder ached. A pin from her hairdo fell out, letting a single hair strand escape from the tight confines. Stars danced in her vision from hitting the ground, and tears burned her vision.

"Camilla! Are you okay?" Xander asked, dropping his sword as he ran over to her. Camilla sat up with a groan, her palm against her forehead.

"Yeah, I think so... Ow..."

"You sure? That was a nasty fall. Is your ankle okay?"

With careful, testing movements Camilla slowly rolled her ankle, waiting for the pain to make itself known. But her ankle didn't complain, which made it about the only part of her body that wasn't complaining right now. Camilla smiled up at Xander's worried face.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" she said, as she got up on her feet again. Her ankle still didn't complain, and she felt much better now. "Let's continue!"

"You sure?" Xander asked, the worry still not expelled from him. "Maybe we should go inside instead..."

"And let you win? You wish, Exalt! But the Fell Dragon Grima never yields!"

Camilla lunged forward again, and this time managed to tackle Xander. Xander gasped in pain and surprise, struggling to stay on his feet when he suddenly had to balance not only himself but his younger sister. Camilla clung to Xander's waist, trying to tip him over, laughing loudly.

"Camilla!" Xander choked out, but he was laughing too, struggling to get Camilla off him. "That's not fair! You should at least warn me!"

"I'm not Camilla! I am the-"

"Camilla!"

Both children froze, their laughter quick to die out, getting stuck in their throats. The voice was familiar to them both, as well as that particular tone of rage in it. Camilla quickly detached herself from Xander and straightened her back. Xanders arms lowered down, the happiness on his face quickly being swallowed up by fear as they watched the woman that was making her way over to the both of them. The ends of her hair was dragging after her, lifted by a wind that didn’t exist. Camilla’s heart sank. Her mother truly was livid. Xander took one of her shaking hands in his, and squeezed it gently. 

“What do you think you’re doing, young lady?!” Cecilia screamed. 

“Mother, I was just-” 

A sudden, sharp pain in her cheek caused her jaws to snap together, the rest of her sentence cut off. A burning, prickling pain rose to her skin, and she had to clench her jaws harder to try to push down the cry of pain. Such noises were unladylike, and mother hated it when she was unladylike. So she remained as still as possible, her head lowered in shame, as she silently was grateful her mother hadn’t chosen the rings with the jewels this morning. 

“I don’t want to hear your pitiful excuses!” 

“Lady Cecilia!” Xander interjected, shielding Camilla with an arm. “It’s not her fault. I asked her to play with me, it’s not-!”

“That doesn’t matter”, Cecilia snarled, her eyes burning with hatred and rage as they turned their vicious glare to Xander. He flinched at the glare and her tone of voice, his arm trembling slightly, but he remained where he was. “I don’t care about whose fault it is, I care about that my daughter looks like a peasant child that has rolled in mud! When I told her to be careful, as well! Now move, I’m taking Camilla to my chambers.” 

“No, I told you, it’s my fault! You shouldn’t punish her over it!” 

“I told you to move!” 

Cecilia’s hand lashed out, her palm striking Xander’s chest and she shoved him hardly backwards. It was too fast for Camilla to see anything, but she felt the whipping strength of wind magic rush past her, and the spell along with the added forced of Cecilia’s arm strength, sent him flying backwards. When he hit the ground he rolled a few times before he finally stopped, quite a bit away from where he had been standing a second ago. Camilla barely had time to gasp before she felt her mother’s nails in her wrist, and Cecilia started dragging Camilla away without sparing Xander as much as a glance. 

“Xander!” Camilla yelled, trying to pull against her mother’s grip. Cecilia tugged harshly in Camilla’s arm, sending Camilla stumbling over her feet. With the growing rage Cecilia’s speed grew as well, and Camilla had to struggle to keep up, stumbling along through the hallways. She still tried to pull on the grip holding her, tried to free herself. She knew what was waiting when they reached Cecilia’s chambers, and it terrified Camilla to her very core. She continued to struggle, as she cried and begged for mercy, apologies and promises to be good cascading from her lips as her heart was beating faster and faster. Fear coiled around Camilla’s heart, squeezing tighter and tighter on her heart for every step they took. Her fear came to it’s dreadful finale as her mother opened the door and showed Camilla inside her room. The door fell shut behind them, and as it closed it shut Camilla’s last chance of mercy out as well. 

Cecilia showed her daughter against the bed, and Camilla let out a gasp of pain as her ribs collided with the wooden bedframe. Her breath was knocked out of her, tears gathering in her eyes as she tried to choke down air. Blurry stars danced before her eyes as she struggled to pull air down her lungs, her breathing only coming out in ragged gasps. Her punishment hadn’t even begun yet, and Camilla was already in terrible pain. 

"Look at you, Camilla. Your hair, your face, your dress... It's a disgrace!"

A harsh shove sent Camilla further down on the floor, her knees hitting cold stone, the dress offering only faint protection against the harsh cold. She would have bruises tomorrow. Her fingers desperately clutched the sheets, tangling up in the fabric as she leaned her forehead down against the bedframe. Her breath trembled as she fought against the tears. No crying, no crying, no crying. Mother hated crying. Camilla struggled to focus on her breathing instead, counting the seconds to calm her breath down. In, one, two, three four. Out, one, two, three, four... In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four...

Loud, terrifying rattling sounded in the room, and Camilla let out a soft, terrified whimper. Her teeth pressed down on the bedframe, trying to use the wood between her teeth as gag to silence all other sounds, and hoped that her mother hadn't heard the forbidden sound. Don't cry, please don't cry, she couldn't start crying now. The first touch of the cane against her back was soft, a quiet warning as Cecilia measured the distance. A shudder went through Camilla's body and she clung tighter to the sheets, for something to hold onto, something to get her through the coming pain. 

“You are a disgraceful child.” 

Cecilia raised the cane.

\---

There were always a lot of people in Castle Krakenburg, and not all of them were nice people. Granted, there were a lot of nice ones too. There was the baker in the kitchen that would always bake a few extra sweets and give them to Xander and Camilla. There was the gardener who put a black rose in Camilla's hair when she came by to chat with him. There was the two stable hands, also them siblings, that would teach Xander and Camilla cards in exchange for Xander and Camilla teaching them court dances or for sharing their sweets. But for every kind and gentle soul in the castle, who smiled at the two royals and offered gifts or kind words, there was someone wicked.

There was the court ladies that would glance at Camilla before whispering behind their fans, giggling among themselves. Camilla never learned what they thought were so funny about her, and she didn't dare ask. There was the music teacher that always lamented over how bad the two of them were. Even when Xander's fingers danced over the piano, he still got lectured over missing one or two notes. Camilla would spend hours with the violin, and yet be accused of never practising. After every lesson both Xander's and Camilla's fingers were hurting. Xander's from practising the same piece over and over, not allowed to leave until he could play it perfectly. Camilla's from being hit with the violin bow as discipline for never practising.

Then there were the children.

There were a lot of children in the castle. Servants' childrens, guards' children, noble children. But then there were those certain ones. Those that had a special air about them. Some were born of noble women, some were born of servant women. Many of them sported blonde hair. All of them were younger than Xander and Camilla, and every now and then they were put in the same room as Xander and Camilla. They'd be there when their father wanted to spend time with his children. They'd be there during balls, stealing their father's attention. They'd be there during lessons, and holidays, and meals. Sometimes Camilla was left alone with them, with those that pulled her hair or wanted to play, under the close watch of nannies.

Camilla usually loved the parties that were held in the great hall. When the ball room was decorated in girlands, candles that lit up dark walls in a heavenly light, and flowers that were willed into existence by mages and carefully placed in intricate patterns over the room. Sometimes there were coloured ribbons wrapped around pillars or put up along the walls, and Xander and Camilla would run along and compete who could find the longest one, or find out how they were able to stick to the wall. There was always music, and the tunes were loud enough to drown out the sorl of the people. Camilla's favourites were the costume balls, like the harvest festival. When she would get to dress up in fun costumes and her mother would call her cute with a smile on her face.

But the name-givings were different. They were important occasions, and the great hall was decorated in unnaturally golden flowers that the mages had spent the whole day working on. Their petals reflected the bright candle light, shining so clearly it hurt to look at. The music was feather light, and Camilla had to strain her ears to hear anything over the people around her. She was dressed up, but not in fun costumes. Her mother never smiled, and was instead standing with a hand on Camilla's shoulder, her nails digging into Camilla every now and then. She wasn't allowed to run around with Xander, to have fun or try to enjoy herself. Instead she was standing to the side, among the rest of the children and their mothers.

There was a woman standing next to Garon, the light in the great hall hugging her shoulders. Her smile was brighter than the light from the flowers, and her black hair curled around her pretty face. In her arms was the star of the day. The reason why they had all gathered, why the great hall was lit up with bright flowers, why Cecilia's jaw was clenched so tightly. The star of the day, that would now be added to the galaxy of previous stars that all had had their big day. A tiny baby, deep asleep in his mother's arms. Still so young that he wouldn’t be able to remember this day, remember being cooed at, remember his father's undivided attention as he announced to the world that this tiny child was his.

"I hereby give you, my son, the name-" One of the children next to Camilla, only six months old, began crying in her mother's arms. Her mother quickly hushed her. "Damien."

The great hall erupted in applause. The woman next to Garon beamed with pride and happiness, but her child - Damien - remained asleep, unaware that his life had now been decided. The king had claimed him as his son, had given him a name. He was a prince, now. Cecilia's nails dug deeper into Camilla's shoulder. Camilla averted her eyes, and instead looked out the windows. Outside the snow was falling. It had been colder lately, and now it was undeniable, no matter how much Camilla tried to cling to the autumn. Winter had arrived in Windmire.


	2. Winter's Reign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warnings: Attempted murder at the end of the chapter, blood and gore. All tags already mentioned goes for this chapter as well (beware of violence).

Winter was a cruel time in the castle. The heavy snow’s battle against the hot lava resulted in a coat of ice over the walls that melted only to freeze against the stone again. The stables, located higher up in the remains of the volcano so that the nobles wouldn’t have to take their horses through the streets every time they itched for a hunt, were worst off. Too far from the lava, and too exposed to the icy chills and blankets of snow. The gardens were hidden under the snow, the cold black branches of the trees holding up the white mantle as best as they could. The wyverns covered in their caverns in the ground, sleepy in the cold months, and refused to heed the calls of their riders. Not even the privileged life of a princess was spared from the winter’s reign. It caged her within the castle, the cold too strong for the children to enjoy playing outdoors for very long. Mother’s mood turned darker and fouler for each passing day as the winter overtook the place that had belonged to her just a few weeks ago. The traces of her reign, of the autumn’s happy time, were freezing to ice, shattering under the pressure of Camilla trying to remember them. The cold froze the passageways that hadn’t had the pipes built in, heavily diminishing how much Camilla was able to explore of them. During this time, there wasn’t many places where Camilla could seek refugee. But there was one place.

“Now where in all of Nohr are the damn… Ah! There they are!” 

Alicia was busy rummaging through the cupboards, standing on the tips of her toes as she reached for the higher shelves. Her black boots whined in protest as she struggled to reach the bottles of dried fruits, cursing under her breath as she tried to will her arms into growing the extra centimetres needed for her fingers to close around the bottles. Alicia lifted one foot to the side, as if standing on only one foot would somehow make her taller, as curses kept falling from her lips. Many others of Alicia’s height would have given up by now, fetched a stool or help, but what Alicia lacked in height she had double in stubbornness. This wasn’t the first time she had fought a battle with the shelves, and as Camilla, standing in the entrance, watched the battle unfold she wondered how many more there would be before Alicia’s pride and stubborn mind finally crumbled. 

Camilla opened her mouth to ask if Alicia needed help, not that Camilla was much taller than the kitchen girl and certainly wouldn’t be of much help, when suddenly Alicia let out a triumphant "aha!" and, as the girl tumbled backwards as her balance finally succumbed to the laws of physics, she did so while clutching the jar she wanted. Alicia landed on her back on the floor, holding the jar tightly to her chest. When she dared to crack an eye open she glanced down at it and, when she noticed that it had survived her fall, held it above her head. 

"YES!" she yelled with a smug grin. "Take that shelves! I won again!" 

Camilla giggled from the door, and it wasn't until now that Alicia noticed the young princess, her red locks a blur around her as she whipped her head around to where Camilla was. Alicia's smile grew sincere when she noticed who the guest was, and quickly jumped up on her feet. 

"Your Highness!" Alicia said with a grin as she wiped the dust of her dress. "Perfect timing as ever, milady!" 

"Perfectly on time to watch you falling over yourself to get a jar from a shelf?" Camilla couldn't help herself but to tease. Alicia's cheeks reddened for a moment, but then she shook her head. 

"No, no, not that! You can see that happening every day", she mumbled as she set the precious jar down on the kitchen counter. When she glanced up at Camilla again there was a sparkle in her eyes. "I have something much better for you."

It didn't take more than that for Camilla's interest to pique, and she rushed forward. The further into the kitchen she came the hotter it became, the heat of the lava mixing with the heat of the many ovens and stoves, and it wrapped around her like warm arms in a hug. Camilla tried not to bounce as she glanced around for the mysterious "better thing" Alicia had for her, trying to see something she didn't recognize. 

"What is it? Alicia, what is it?"

Alicia only smiled at Camilla's eagerness. She crouched down on the floor, opening one of the lower kitchen shelves. It was the shelf where odd stuff was kept. A few cups that had lost their saucers or the other way around, a few belongings from other kitchen servants that had left the castle for various reasons, one or two crooked whisks that the accountant for the servants' budget claimed was perfectly useable and not enough grounds to buy new ones. All of it had been stuffed into the cabinet in lack of a better place to put it, and everyone just hoped they would never have to use any of it. Most other servants refused to come close to the cabinet out of fear that their respective superiors would get the idea of putting them on the gruelling task of cleaning the cabinet. Which was why Alicia had picked it as her hiding place. She pushed one dusty jewelry box with cracked fake silver out of the way, and moved a few old aprons that had been torn in such ways it was easier to buy new ones instead of trying to mend them. Behind that was a basket with a kitchen towel placed neatly in it. The casket and the towel was the only things in the cabinet that didn't look like it hadn't been touched in a decade, and Alicia pulled it out. She unraveled the kitchen rag, and Camilla's eyes sparkled as she saw what had been hidden in it this time. 

"You made hunangbers?" she gasped, crouching down on the floor next to Alicia. Hunangbers were one of Camilla's favourite sweets, and among the only things she looked forward to in the winter months. They were small tarts filled with dried berries and covered in honey before being baked in the oven. They were very popular in the castle, especially at Winter's Ease, where the whole court presented their loved ones with hunangbers, flowers of both paper and real petals, as well as numerous others small gifts to declare their affection. Hunangbers had become the symbol for the holiday, and some even chose to refer to the winter season as "hunangber season". 

"Mhmm!" Alicia said, her voice filled with pride. "I've been practising for when Winter Ease starts. I'm gonna give a few to Clara during the festival, and I want to make sure they are perfect by then. These ones came out pretty great, if I do say so myself." 

Alicia put the basket down on the floor, and picked up one of the tarts. She inspected it from every angle, staring at it with a critical eye, feeling the thickness of the crust and how much berries she had fit in the tart. Camilla thought it looked pretty good, but kept quiet as she watched Alicia inspect the tart. After a while she nodded, apparently giving the tart a passing grade as well. She held it out to Camilla with an exaggerated bow that looked really dumb when they were sitting on the floor. 

"Princess Camilla, Your Highness", Alicia said, doing her very best imitation of one of the butlers, with his level and serious voice. "Does Your Gloriousness desire to sample a tart of mine own creation?" 

Camilla giggled behind her hand. Somehow Alicia could even make the boring traditions of etiquette hilarious. Then she composed herself, smoothing out the joy on her face to a look of arrogant disinterest. She turned her head to the side and stuck up her nose in the air, like she didn't even care to look at the kitchen girl. 

"Ah, you have produced a tart for me?" she replied, pretending to fan herself. "Very well, young kitchen girl. Even though I have promised my most honourable Mother not to indulge in sweets, I shall sample your cooking talents. A princess should always know the state of her household, after all." 

"Your Shiningness is much too kind for a simple servant such as myself", Alicia swooned, a hand to her forehead in mock drama. "I can never thank you enough, My... uh... My Princess of Stars! Your Sparkleness. Your... Your Sugarness!"

Camilla's mock arrogance cracked as the laughter broke through her tries to contain it, and she dropped her pose to collapse over herself, laughing so hard her stomach was starting to hurt. Her shoulders shook with laughter, and soon she heard Alicia laughing as well, falling with her back against the kitchen cabinets, which didn't even pause her fit of laughter. 

"H-Hey!" Alicia coughed between laughs. "I was winning, you know! It's unfair of you to start laughing!" 

"Winning?" Camilla gasped between her own fits of laughter. "You- You called me- Sugarness!" 

"Yes, so what? Isn't that technically the same thing as all the other stuff I'm supposed to call royalty? It's on the same level as 'highness', right?" 

"No! No, it's not... Gods, my stomach... S-Sugarness..." 

Ever so slowly Camilla's laughter died out, and she wiped at her eyes, feeling small tears of joy forming. She leaned her back against the kitchen cabinets as well, sitting next to Alicia as her laughter faded to a smile. When she felt that she could safely do so without another fit of laughter hitting her she glanced up at Alicia again. Alicia was smiling as well, and for a couple moments they just sat there, looking at each other and smiling at each other's weird humour. Camilla pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. Her mother would berate her for getting dust on her dress again, but she would also have berated her if she knew where Camilla was spending time. She couldn't count all the times she had been told to act like a noble, and that it was unfitting of her to mingle with servants. But Camilla couldn't stay away from Alicia. She was a sweet girl, fun and kind. She could always cheer Camilla up, sometimes without even trying, like right now. It was enough to enter the kitchen, to feel the warmth and sense the aromas of food cooking, and hearing Alicia's voice for Camilla to feel safe. She could be herself here, in Alicia's company, without being judged. She could joke around, or act unladylike, or make fun of the other nobles, and Alicia's face never twisted with annoyance at her behaviour or judgement. Alicia liked her for her, not what she should be or could be. Alicia, a kitchen servant that was too short to reach most of the shelves and thought that "Your Sugarness" and "Your Highness" were basically the same thing, understood her better than any other noble. With Alicia she felt safe, happy... free, even. 

After a couple seconds of silence filled with the traces of joy and laughter, Alicia held out the tart to Camilla again. 

"Tart?" she asked in her normal voice. 

"Yes, please", Camilla said as she took the tart from her best friend. 

\----

Ice already covered the steps up, turning the steps into a death trap. Yet Camilla still struggled on, carefully walking up each step. She hadn’t expected the ice to cover everything already, but the winter’s march went quickly in the Nesting Tower. The huge, arching, windows missing glass that turned the wall to empty window space more than wall made it easy for the winter to enter. The empty spaces let the cold winds enter, and as the snow melted against the lava under the stones the cold winds quickly froze the halfly melted mess. Camilla leaned against the Tower’s core, clinging to the railing put up there to keep herself from falling when her feet slipped over the ice. Her hands were cold as ice inside her gloves, the railing covered with snow making her gloves wet and inviting the cold into the fabric. But she powered on, because she needed to see them one last time before she would be forbidden to brave the stairs again. She needed to visit them, one last time. So on she went, struggling up to the Tower's top. 

It took longer than she had anticipated, and she was rather certain she would be late to her history lesson at this rate, but it all faded from her mind when she finally found herself standing in front of the oaken door at the top. She didn't knock, she never had to, and instead used the last strength in her trembling muscles to open the door, stepping inside. She was shivering, but it felt better as soon as she opened the door. The nesting room was comfortably warmed up by the lava that ran in a myriad of pipes in the roof above them as well as the floor were they usually went. A few of them even ran along the wall. All to battle against the cold of winter, and create a comfortable place with an even temperature all year round. During the summer most of the pipes in the room were left dry, the lava redirected somewhere else. But now the lava was running through every pipe, circulating, coming back, travelling up and down the castle. Big tables were everywhere, as well as shelves on every part of the walls. Every shelf and table had been divided into small, even boxes by wood, and covered with a generous amount of hay. If a horse ever made it up the stairs the room would be heaven for it, but now the room belonged to some other creatures. In every box a nest had been made. Some clumsy, some kept pristine, some new, and some a tad too old. Everywhere in the room, either nestled into their own box, flying around in the room, not daring to approach the giant window and the cold winds outside just yet, or running around on the floor, were wyverns. Most of them were a couple months old, and were starting to get used to their wings and learning to fly. A few were a tad younger, being later than usual to hatch. Some were a bit too old to really having to remain in the nesting tower, but were either too weak to survive in the stables yet or would have to wait until the spring before they were allowed into the stables so none of the adult wyverns grew territorial about their space and warmth. A few of them were trying to spit fire, some of the tried to use their claws to climb the table, some tried to lift themselves off the ground with their wings at the same time as their feet was clawing around on the floor, like they thought that would help them. 

In the center of the room a man was leaned against one of the tables. His black hair was a mess, always looking like he had just come back to earth after a ride on his wyvern, hair still whipped and tousled from the wind. He was always dressed in as thick leather as could be found, allowing the wyverns to claw themselves up his arms and legs without harming him. At the moment he was holding a small wyvern in his arms while another was seated on his shoulder and a third had nestled into his hair and promptly fallen asleep. The small wyvern on his shoulder, one in the deepest black that would be highly sought after among the nobles when it was fully grown, nibbled in the man's ear, interested in the hair that was as black as it's own scales. When the man heard the door opening and falling shut he glanced up from the wyvern in his arms, and stared at Camilla, his greeting phrase dying on his lips. 

"Lady Camilla!" he finally gasped, and Camilla could imagine she was quite a sight. Her clothes were dirty from leaning on the wall all the way up, her gloves ruined by the wet, cold dirt, and exhaustion was pouring out of every inch of her being. She cracked a small smile to the man, still breathing heavily from the climb. 

"Hello, Atulf. I'm not bothering you, am I?" she greeted between heavy breaths. 

Atulf quickly shoved his surprise to the side and crossed the room in large strides. On his way over to Camilla he dropped the wyvern in his hands that tumbled a little before flying off, looking nothing more but a little disgruntled over having to use it's wings. Atulf didn't even spare it a glance as he went down on one knee in front of Camilla, looking her over. His eyes scanned all the stains and the dirt on her clothes, the tears in her gloves, and how wet and dirty her heels were. Camilla could do little else but stand still as she felt herself being inspected and judged, keeping her head turn down to avoid seeing the disappointment in the wyvern caretaker's eyes that she knew had to be there. 

"Young princess", he finally said after a while of looking her over. "Did you climb the stairs all the way up here?" 

"Well, yes", she mumbled. "What else was I supposed to do?" 

"But the stairs are a death trap this time of year. Surely you know that?" 

"Yes, but..." Camilla bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. "But I knew this was my last time to see Cynane before spring." 

Atulf sighed softly at the answer, and Camilla had to fight back tears. She had been stupid to think she could just walk up here. Now Atulf were disappointed with her, she'd be late to her history lesson, and all because of a selfish desire to see Cynane before winter's hold of the tower grew too strong. What had she been thinking? This was why her teachers always yelled at her, wasn't it? She raised one fist to her eye, wiping away the tears that were forming before they spilled over her cheeks. 

"I'm sorry", she mumbled quietly, unable to raise her voice above a whisper. "It was stupid, and I'm bothering you. I... I'm going to go back down again, and I'll just come visit when spring is here. I'm sorry." 

Atulf stood frozen in front of her, still looking her up and down. A beat passed, a second that was enough for Camilla's heart to break even further. What if she wouldn't even be allowed to return in spring? Perhaps this was enough for him to ban her from the Nesting Tower. She wouldn't get to see Cynane again before she was an adult wyvern and Camilla was old enough to practise riding her in four years. Four long years of waiting, all because she had been so determined to get one last visit before winter. This time it was harder to stop the tears from falling, but it was unbecoming of a lady to cry in front of others. Without a word Atulf got up from the floor and walked over to one of the benches where he picked up a discarded cape. Before Camilla could fully register what he was doing he wrapped the cape around her, enveloping her with warmth and the scent of wyverns. She couldn't stop herself from wrapping it tighter around her, pulling it tightly around her and nestle into the warmth. 

"It's alright, milady", Atulf said softly, smiling at her. "You're not bothering me. But it was a dangerous climb, little lady, and you shouldn't make it again. Promise me that you won't climb up the stairs when they're not safe, and I'll promise you that you can come visit Cynane whenever you want. You don't even have to wait until spring." 

"I... can visit her during the winter too?" Camilla asked slowly, the words sounding too good to be true. She stared up at Atulf, almost expecting the words to be nothing but a cruel joke. But Atulf only smiled softly at her, not a hint of dishonesty. 

"Of course", he said. "If you are this determined to visit your little one, then who am I to stop you? But next time I'll bring you up on Gerome, how about that?"

"You'll let me ride Gerome?!" 

Now Camilla knew Atulf had to be joking. Gerome was the biggest, most vicious wyvern in the castle. It's scales were a deep black like the coldest winter night, with only the vivid red markings on it's horns breaking off against the black. It had many experienced wyvern riders backing away from it, and Atulf adored it. Atulf was even known to scratch Gerome under it's chin, while softly mumbling about what a good boy Gerome was.

"Indeed I will. All for my favourite princess", Atulf said with a wink. "But don't tell any of the others I called you that, or I'll get chewed out by their mothers." 

"It's a deal!" 

"Good." Atulf leaned forward and gently ruffled Camilla's hair, a soft smile on his lips. There was such a caring warmth in him, that sometimes Camilla imagined the man as her uncle. She wished she really had an uncle like him. "I'll take you down on Gerome later, so you won't have to make the climb again. But first, there's someone here who has been waiting for you." 

With the cape wrapped around her, the leftover fabric dragging on the floor behind her, Camilla followed Atulf up to one of the shelves. She knew exactly where she was supposed to look, and at the very time she spotted the small wyvern yellow eyes found her as well. With a loud shriek and it's wings flapping Cynane jumped to her, landing in Camilla's waiting arms. It let out small shrill growls as it climbed over Camilla's arms, nibbling in her hair and in the cape, before finally settling in her waiting hands. Camilla laughed as she hugged the small wyvern close, and her heart swelled with the knowledge that Cynane had missed her too. Her little wyvern had actually missed her. She ran one finger over the scales on it's head, and Cynane pushed it's head against her in response, closing it's eyes in bliss. It was something so tiny, but it was full of life. Camilla could feel life pulsate through it with every heartbeat, every twitch of a claw and every flip of it's tail. In the icey winters of Nohr there was a warm heart, beating stubbornly, giving life to something so small and so warm. A beating, pulsating miniature sun in the middle of the snow and cold. 

\----

Queen Katerina, Xander's mother, had been dead many years. But her spirit still resided in Castle Krakenburg.

There was a painting of her in the hallway between Camilla's room and Xander's. It was a big, lavish portrait, painted right after she had become the queen. She was tall, towering over every passing soul in the hallway. Her golden locks were adorned by the black crown that every noble lady in the castle coveted. Her deeply red dress was intricate, and beautiful, but overshadowed by the terrifying blade by her hip. Siegfried, the divine weapon, that had chosen Katerina to wield it. Katerina had been praised as a warrior, even years after her demise, and even though Camilla had never seen her fight she could believe those stories when she looked up at the painting. Because in Katerina's red eyes burned a flame, life and energy, that not even death could extinguish. Because everytime Camilla glanced up at the portrait, when her eyes met Katerina's red ones, Camilla was filled with a strong, deeprooted feeling that Katerina despised her. Camilla always kept her head down when she walked the hallway.

It was during the winter that Katerina's presence was strongest. Her birthday had been during the winter, and she had been married in the winter. Her coronation had been during a frigid cold winter, the coldest one anyone who had been present could remember. If fall was Cecilia's time, then the winter belonged to Katerina. When the darkness swallowed the hallways, when the moonlight made the snow on the castle sparkle like diamonds, when every resident in the castle curled up close to fire places in search of warmth. When the cold winds blew over the castle, that's when Katerina's flame burned the brightest.

The winter also brought Garon's attention. It was the time when he pulled himself from affairs of state, and turned his attention to his children. Edged on by Midwinter, the holiday when one was supposed to spend time with one's family, Garon pulled his children close. It was the one thing about winter that Camilla loved, when she found herself in the couch in front of the fire place in Garon's study. She and Xander were curled up on each side of their father, a cup of hot chocolate in their hands, listening to the story they were read. The light from the fire danced over Xander. It made his golden hair shine and his red eyes glitter. He looked a lot like his mother, but instead of looking terrifying he looked happy, content with his warm blanket and hot cocoa. Camilla loved those moments, but she couldn't shake a feeling of dread.

Because everytime her eyes wandered, when she looked away from the fire and into the darkness in the far corners of her father's study, she could sense it. A cold flame, burning ice, and something there that despised her. Camilla pulled the blanket tighter around herself, and focused her attention on her father's voice, ignoring the cold in the darkness.

\----

Camilla was a ghost. 

She was the ghost of Castle Krakenburg, that resided in the walls and could be heard giggling or running down through the hallway when a lonely maid found themselves all alone in the hallway. Servants whispered to each other in the corners, stealing a moment or two to chat away from the eyes of their superiors, and they talked about the crown princess that had died at a young age a hundred years ago and that still resided in the walls, looking over the court that never had become hers. Ladies in waiting tried to scare each other over tea with stories about a woman that had wrongfully been executed for a crime she hadn’t committed, the crime changing every time the story was told, and since then haunted the castle, seeking revenge on her long dead executor. The guards tried to best each other with the scariest story about the butcher’s twins that had been found dead in their room some forty years back. To the kitchen servants she was a concubine looking for her noble lover that had betrayed her, to the gardeners a noble’s unwanted bastard child, and to some… to some she was just superstition. The tales that surrounded her were endless. Camilla listened to all of them, perched in a sofa during teatime, overheard them while on her way to her next lesson, coaxed them out of the soldier in charge of overseeing the training weapons. She loved them all, loved hearing about the fear that she struck in people, and how completely off every theory was. No one seemed to connect them to the princess with purple hair. Yes, Camilla was a ghost. She was the ghost of Castle Krakenburg, everyone and no one at the same time. 

But she was also a ghost in other ways. She was a spirit that couldn’t get rest, who was condemned to tread through the same hallways, the same halls, the same days for eternity. She walked the same ways, from lesson to lesson she was supposed to attend, from library to music hall, and then down to her daily tea with Mother in the west drawing room. She was a tolerated presence, but she wasn’t much else. She was a princess, which gave her rank and status, but she was also the daughter of a court sorcerer, not a queen. She was someone and no one, a ghost caught in the world it once had inhibited but no longer had any place in. To servants she was someone to envy, her beautiful dresses and lavish dinners so far from their own world, like the dead envying the living. To nobles she was someone to scorn, her very existence a blight on the royal family, a subject to be sneered at like the living despise death. She was dead but alive. Alive but dead. A ghost with a heartbeat, a heart pumping around blood she didn’t deserve in her unworthy veins. 

Perhaps that was why the dead mistook her for one of them so often. Perhaps that was why Camilla could hear them outside her door so often, scraping against the wood, a terrifying sound that chilled her to the bone, as if the nails were scraping on her skin instead of the wooden door. Perhaps that was why she so often heard giggles in the room when she was there alone, or why sometimes her things disappeared to then turn up in weird places like the forgotten room above the great hall, or why sometimes she could feel cold fingers around her wrist even when no one was there. 

Because maybe… Maybe the dead knew as well. That she didn’t belong. That she shouldn’t exist in the world of the living. That she was no more than an insult to the late queen, a breathing corpse whose only reason for existence was to smear Katerina’s name. She didn’t deserve to be a royal, didn’t deserve the privilege to be part of the king’s family, but she didn’t belong among the servants either. She was everyone and no one at the same time. The living didn’t want her, the dead weren’t strong enough to take her, and so Camilla was stuck. She was stuck wandering the halls, restless, there but also not. She was a ghost. A ghost with a beating heart. 

\----

A storm was shaking Castle Krakenburg. A storm so great Camilla was reduced to hiding under the bed, covering her head with her hands and quiet down her whimpers by biting her lip so hard it bled. In her head she berated herself for missing the signs. She should know better by now. She should have felt the tension, should have noticed the change in the atmosphere, all that she normally caught. But she had been taken by surprise, and now all she could do was hide and wait for it to blow over. A vase shattered the full length mirror by the door, and Camilla flinched so suddenly she accidentally slammed her head into the underside of the bed. The storm would not be over anytime soon.

"DAMN YOU, KATERINA!" Cecilia shrieked. "Why can't I ever be rid of you?!"

Camilla peeked through her fingers, watching as Cecilia stormed around the room, looking for anything else to throw. The heels of her shoes swept past Camilla's line of view, a small clattering sound like a knife against ice that stopped right before Cecilia with a new scream through another vase into the wall. The black and gold shards rained down over the floor, mixing with the water from the vase. Abused petals slowly drifted down to the floor, coming to a final rest after their brutal death, only to then be crushed under Cecilia’s heel as she kept marching back and forth in the room. 

"Oh, you must be so happy with yourself, aren't you?" Cecilia laughed. "Even when you're gone, you're still here! He still can't think of anybody but you!"

Books were shoved into the floor, crashing down in the stone. Papers flew everywhere, and an bottle of ink shattered. The ink splattered against the carpet, black stains over the beautiful, expensive red and gold. Camilla pressed a hand against her mouth to stop herself from crying out. She pressed herself further down on the dusty floor, wishing that if she pressed herself hard enough against the floor it would open up and swallow her, allowing her to escape. But all she was met with was not mercy, but cold, indifferent stone. Cecilia was walking around again, tearing at the curtains and the canopies, looking for something else to throw or break.

"Oh, of course. Of course he loves her, that dumb little thing. Of course he does. But only because-" Glass shattered, shards raining down on the floor next to the bed Camilla was under. "-SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU!"

A fragile, heavy silence filled the room. Cecilia remained standing, staring at the new thing she had broken. She was standing with her back against Camilla’s hiding place, and all Camilla could see was the back of her mother’s shoes, and the way a broken flower petal was stuck to the end of the heel, pierced by the thin heel. Cecilia didn't storm around anymore, she didn't look after something else to break. It was quiet, and still, and Camilla quietly began to hope that it was over.

"You won't go away, will you? No, you will always be here to flaunt your power over him. He will always love you. As long as there is a single trace of you in this castle he will... He will always love you...."

Cecilia started walking again, and Camilla's breath hitched. But the steps weren't full of rage anymore. Instead they were heavy, slow, as they stepped over the broken glass. Cecilia wasn't looking for a new thing to break anymore. The storm had passed. Cecilia pulled out the chair by the vanity, and collapsed in it. Silence filled the room once more. The calm after the storm, heavy and worrisome. The only sound in the room was Camilla's heartbeat, pounding in her ears, as she waited.

"Camilla. Come to mother."

Camilla whimpered against her hand, trembling underneath the bed. Fear squeezed her heart, making it pound faster and heavier. Tears burned in Camilla's eyes. She shut them tightly, and slowly crawled out from under the bed. She had to brush glass shards away to be able to get out from under the bed, but soon enough she was standing on the floor behind her mother. The room was a mess. The mirror by the door had been shattered, it's glass covering the floor. A few shards still clung to the frame, but it didn't help much for it's function. The desk had been overturned. Books with broken spines and torn papers drenched in ink littered the floor. Pillows had been slashed open, the feathers covering the bed. The mirror in the vanity was broken. Cracks ran like a spider's web over the surface, splitting the image of Cecilia's face in several parts. Cecilia was slowly brushing her hair, seemingly unbothered by the cracks, calm and collected in the middle of the traces of her wrath, the broken remains of what had to die for Cecilia to feel better. She turned her eyes up to the mirror image of Camilla, and looked her over. After a few seconds of unnerving silence Cecilia slowly put down the brush on the table, and turned to look at her daughter. She looked her up and down. Camilla trembled, clutching the sides of her dress, crumpling the purple fabric. 

"Your dress is dirty."

\---

That evening Garon announced in throne room that First Bloom had been sighted. The Winter's Ease festival was upon the castle.

\----

"Two tens."

"Fraud!" Xander called, and flipped the two top cards in the pile. His face fell, and he let out a groan of disappointment when he saw that there was actually two tens at the very top, just like Clara had said. With annoyed huffs he gathered the pile of cards and picked them up, struggling to sort them through in his hands. For someone that had been closer to win than he ever had been before this was a nasty turn of events. 

"I hate this game", he muttered, struggling to keep all the cards in his hands. 

"Don't say that, Your Highness! You're getting the hang of it", Clara said with a big grin on her face. "Princess Camilla, it's your turn."

"Okay.... three fours!" Camilla said and put three cards down on the top of the barrel with the backs up. Briana studied the cards for a moment, looking over her own, but then shrugged and put down a card.

"One four", she said simply, and Clara threw her a suspicious glance. 

A cold wind blew through the stables, making the four of them shiver. Xander and Camilla pulled their cloaks tighter around themselves. All four of them were seated in the warmest corner of the stables, but the warmest corner was still very cold in the rigid winter. Clara and Briana were two stable hands, siblings as well, and both older than Xander and Camilla. The two pair of siblings had a long standing agreement - Clara and Briana would teach the royals card games, in exchange for sweets that Xander and Camilla smuggled with them from inside the castle. Clara also wanted dance lessons to impress girls, while Briana was satisfied with munching on tarts and watching her sister struggle with dancing. This lead to many evenings spent in the stables with Xander sitting on a barrel and singing the tones of a waltz while Camilla and Clara swirled around the floor with the horses as their unimpressed audience. A few times Camilla had managed to steal one of the violins from the music room with her, and the room was filled with the tones of Xander stumbling through a waltz on the violin and Briana’s laughter as Clara tripped over her own feet. But for the moment the four of them had decided on cards instead, huddled together to keep warm.

"Your Highnesses, may I ask a question?" Briana asked as Carla put down another card and mumbled "one four."

"Certainly", Camilla answered, watching Xander put down one card as well.

"Why are you out here instead of inside the castle? It's the Winter's Ease ball now, isn't it?"

"Shut up, Briana, don't remind me! I would much rather be celebrating Winter's Ease, dancing with the Alicia", Clara sighed. She leaned back, throwing her head backwards so her hair was sent cascading down over her back as she groaned in longing. "She's so beautiful, I bet she would look lovely with flowers in her hair... And there's the New Love dance, the most romantic part of the most romantic holiday... Ugh, my heart." Clara clutched her chest, as if her heart was beating painfully against her ribs. 

"My point is", Briana continued, paying no mind to her sister. "The ball must be more fun than being out here with us. Or at least a great deal warmer. I enjoy your company, so I'm not complaining. Simply curious."

At once the stables suddenly felt much colder, the temperature dropping down to below freezing. It froze the air into shards of ice, painfully sharp as it stuck in Camilla’s throat. There it gathered, forming a ball of ice, choking her from the inside. She shivered in the sudden cold, and hugged herself as winter sank down it’s claws into her muscles. Winter’s Ease might be celebrated as the arrival of spring, but winter was too powerful, too stubborn, to be chased away so easily. Spring’s first rebellious warm winds, the ones that warmed up the earth enough for a few brave flowers to bloom, were still quickly squashed by the force of winter. Winter’s Ease were often a frigid cold holiday, as if the winter were punishing them for daring to believe spring had won yet. The cold bit into Camilla with an utmost rage, reminding her of who was still in charge, a few brave flowers be damned. 

"I don't like the ball”, Xander finally said, his voice even like steel and as cold as the winter’s winds. He was staring down at the cards he had clutched in his hands, but without seeing them. There was pain in his voice, pain that always made itself known during this holiday. “I don't like Winter's Ease."

The wind swept over them, and carried on it Camilla could faintly hear the mirror shattering. Her mother screaming. The books that were scattered over the floor. The new woman on Garon's arm, the blonde one with a sweet smile on her lips as she played with the edge of Garon's cape when Garon announced the start of Winter's Ease. The way Cecilia's nails had dug into Camilla's shoulder at the announcement, but with a smile painted on her face. Camilla clutched the cards in her hand. Her back ached, a pulsating, burning pain.

"I don't like Winter's Ease either", Camilla mumbled.

Briana and Clara glanced at each, worry in their eyes. Neither of them said anything, and silence filled the stables as Xander and Camilla fought off painful memories. Even the stable girls noticed how the air in the stables seemed colder now, their candles flickering against the darkness that crept in. But then Xander glanced up, a smile on his face again, dispelling the cold as if he had never existed. The pain was as quickly buried as it had been dragged up from it’s grave, once again shoved aside and covered with a happy smile. Xander nudged Camilla with his elbow.

"Camilla, it's your turn."

"Oh, right. Two fours."

"Fraud!"

\---

Even though Winter's Ease had concluded, and spring had officially arrived, the snow was still heavy on the castle grounds. It was deep, thick, and didn't seem like it'd be going anywhere anytime soon. The true mark of how stubborn Nohr’s winters were, where not even spring could chase it’s powerful reign away. So Xander and Camilla spent their time like any other children would do when the snow lay heavy on the world but the sun was shining. They played.

With a huff Camilla pushed the snowball, trying to get it to move. Her boots slipped on the snow, and the ball seemed stuck in the ground, the snow dense and painfully similar to glue instead of snow. It would be good for their snowman, it would be stable and strong when it was made of this type of snow, but it made building it a rough challenge. Camilla’s gloves were wet with melted snow, but Camilla hadn't even noticed it yet. She was too busy trying to push the snowball towards the place she and Xander had decided they would build their snowman. Camilla put her shoulder against it, planted her feet into the ground, and pushed all she had. The snow groaned under her efforts, but instead of moving, all that happened was that Camilla's feet slipped away from underneath her and she landed face down in the snow.

"Xander!" she groaned in frustration as she sat up on her knees, snow stuck in her hair and eyelashes. She slammed her wet and cold hands down on the ground, making small holes in the snow. "Come help with me this one! It's being mean!"

"Coming!" Xander called. He was deep out in the snow, rolling a smaller ball that they were gonna use as the middle part. Xander hummed to himself as he rolled it, making his way towards Camilla. Snow was stuck in his hair as well, and his cheeks were flushed from the effort and the cold. But there was a genuine smile on his face, one that had slowly found it's way back on his face after disappearing during Winter's Ease. Camilla stood up, brushing the snow off her dress and coat as she waited for Xander. A cold wind blew over the garden, making the snow whirl up into the air. Camilla giggled as she glanced up in the air, feeling the sun's warming rays on her as she smiled. She closed her eyes, soaking up to warmth of the sun. For the first time in so long, Camilla felt at ease. Camilla was so caught up in her daydreams that she didn't hear the steps over the snow until the figure passed by her. A gust of wind whirled around the figure, raising the snow and the ends of long purple hair up into the air. It was nothing like the wind that had played with the snow just a little earlier. It was a strong wind, almost knocking Camilla over. It was filled with rage and tension, sinister and terrifying. It was the wind of a storm. Of a tempest.

Fear struck deep in Camilla's heart, as she watched her mother walk over the snow. But Cecilia had already passed Camilla, had seemingly not even noticed that Camilla was there at all. Her hair flew around her in the wind she created, her purple dress in a disarray from the winds. Her burning eyes were set on Xander as she pushed through the snow with terrifying determination. And it made Camilla terrified.

"Mother!" Camilla called out as she ran after Cecilia, struggling to catch up to her mother through the heavy snow. At Camilla’s yell Xander finally glanced up from the snowball, only now noticing the woman in the garden. His confused eyes became wide with fear when he saw how livid she was, and he took a step back, trying to keep his balance in the deep snow. 

"L-Lady Cecilia? Is something the matter?" Xander asked, trying to figure out what he had done for the sorceress to be this livid at him. But he didn’t receive any response, as Cecilia just stared down at him, rage burning in her face as she finally stopped in front of her target. She didn’t seem to hear Xander’s questions, or how Camilla shouted for her. Their words didn’t reach her, couldn’t pierce the strong winds around her. She only had her own thoughts whirling around, circulating, repeating over and over. She barely even seemed to see the boy in front of her, despite staring at him. The winds around her grew stronger, whipping at Xander's coat and making Cecilia's dress billow in the air, like purple waves in a stormy sea, misplaced in all the immovable white around them. 

"Every last trace", she hissed, her eyes burning into Xander's. "I have to erase... ERASE EVERY LAST TRACE OF HER!"

Xander screamed as he stumbled backwards, trying to get away in the heavy snow, and Cecilia lunged towards him. But Camilla had finally caught up with her mother and she threw herself at Cecilia's arm, clinging to it. She pulled in Cecilia, trying to pull her away from Xander. Her feet slipped over the ground, her body almost lifted off the ground by her mother’s tries to shake her off. Her cold fingers gripped her mother’s sleeve, and she stared up at her with pleading eyes, trying to reach her mother through the storm that shook them both. 

"Mother!" Camilla cried. "Mother, what are you-!"

"OUT OF MY WAY!"

There was a slash.

A slash, and nothing more. She heard it, but she didn't feel it. The world seemed to stop for a moment, holding it's breath. Nothing was moving, not a sound in the air. Time itself had stopped for her, giving her a moment’s respite. Time waited for her as Camilla slowly realised she couldn't open one eye. There was something over it, something keeping her from opening it. Something warm that ran down her face. Camilla raised her hand to her cheek. There was something warm on her cheek. Something warm, and liquidy, and red. Was it blood? In the far distance, she could hear Xander scream as time resumed, her moment of respite over. 

Then the pain hit.

It burned. A fire that exploded in her face, and consumed her. A volcano erupting in her, the pain hot and burning like lava as it ran down over her face. The blood that ran down her cheek was boiling, hot coals pressed against her face. The searing pain wiped out all the other thoughts in her mind. There was nothing but the burning flame of pain. She didn't even notice when her knees gave out and she crumpled to the ground. The pain in her face was too great, she couldn’t think. She was only aware of how she pressed her hand against her wound and screamed until her throat ached as well. She was faintly aware of tears that ran down her other eye, blurring her vision. It took a while for Xander's screams to even register in Camilla's mind, her mind caught in her own suffering.

"No! No, no! Please- Gah! P-please... Hurts... S-stop! No!"

It took everything in her to raise her head, because somewhere her mind managed to process that the screaming meant Xander was in trouble. That she needed to help him somehow. It took a moment for her mind to focus on what was happening in front of her. For her to realize that it was her mother that was holding Xander down in the snow. Cecilia pulled out the blade from Xander's shoulder, drops of red splattering over the white snow, glittering like rubies in the snow. She raised the blade again, the sunshine caught in the blade and the blood, sparkling in a way Camilla hadn’t thought possible. Xander's screams grew louder as the knife once again was plunged into his body.

"M-mother-" Camilla gasped, struggling to make the scene in front of her to stop. But there was nothing she could do, her own pain too great for her mind to focus. She had no strength in her muscles to stand up, or to even raise her voice to beg her mother to stop. It took all of her concentration and strength only to even notice what was happening before her, and she couldn’t will anything else from her powerless body. She didn't even notice the running steps over the ground until the guards tackled Cecilia off Xander. Cecilia kicked and screamed, the knife in her hand losing it’s beautiful glitter as it fell into the snow, out of reach for the sun’s rays. Cecilia’s heels hit one of the guards in the face, causing him to reel back with a hand to his broken nose. With one hand wrestled free from the guard’s grips she sent one of them flying with a wind spell straight to his chest.Snow was kicked up, raised up into the sky by magic winds. But more guards came running, and together they wrestled the sorceress down in the snow, quelling the storm. 

"Hold her down! Look out for the spells!"

"Where are the others?! We need more people!"

"Your Highness? Prince Xander?! Your Highness, please, if you can hear me, I need you to say something. Stay with me, Your Highness, please. Gods above..."

"SOMEONE GET A HEALER!"

"We need to inform His Majesty! Tell him it's an emergency!"

The guards were running around, yelling to one another, struggling to get the situation under control. But for Camilla it all happened far off, like it wasn't real. It was blurry, dreamlike. The sounds couldn’t quite make it to her, her mind too exhausted to decipher what the words meant. Camilla wasn’t even able to tell what language it was anymore. She didn’t watch her mother being dragged away, or hear the loud screams from the sorceress. The voice that could freeze Camilla’s blood with a single change of tone now failed to even make itself known to Camilla, powerless against the fog in Camilla’s mind. All she could do was stare at Xander, lying in the white snow splattered with red, next to the beginnings of their snowman. Blood was splattered over his face and closed eyes. Snowflakes were falling down from the air, gently covering him in featherlight kisses. They came to a rest in his hair and on his pale cheeks, coating his open mouth and covering up the terrifying red that was everywhere. Winter was grieving it’s fallen crown prince. Blood trickled down Camilla's neck, and she realised now that it most likely had reached her collar.

_Oh no,_ was Camilla's last thought before she collapsed in the snow. _My dress is dirty._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay. These are the last awakening references I'll make in this fic, I promise. No more (for now~)
> 
> Cynane is the name I've chosen for Camilla's wyvern. Cynane was Alexander the Great's half-sister, a powerful soldier and respected military leader. Since I've named Xander's horse Buchephalus after Alexander the Great's horse, I wanted to keep that name trend going, and stumbled over Cynane which I thought was a good fit. 
> 
> Fraud is my very uncertain translation of the name of a card game me and my cousins play during family gatherings. If someone recognizes the game and has a more accurate translation of the game I'd appreciate it. 
> 
> And of course, thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are highly apprecieated!


	3. Spring's Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warnings: Discussions of medical things (in the fantasy way of healing magic, though), aftermath of violence

When Camilla woke up it was to immense pain. The explosion of pain had died down to a raging forest fire, the lava had cooled down to trees engulfed in flames. But to Camilla’s exhausted body and mind it made no difference. All she was aware of was that she was in pain, and that the pain was so terrifying and intense it threatened to swallow her whole. She couldn’t feel that she screamed, couldn’t even hear it as her mind was too wrapped up in the pain. She wasn’t aware of how her body trashed around, only to be met by tight leather straps keeping her down, preventing her from moving. She wasn’t aware of how her screaming struggles brought the attention of others, people that was whipped up into a rush. They dashed around her, screaming instructions to each other, but Camilla wasn’t aware of any of it. 

"Make her sleep again!"

"She can't be awake yet!"

“CAMILLA!” 

“Your Majesty, please, you need to let them work in peace, I promise you that-”

"Somebody make her stop screaming!"

Hands were extended over Camilla, a spell mumbled over her, and a flash of green appeared in a perfect circle over her head. Before she could register what was happening the spell pulled her away, deep down in the dark abyss of sleep.

\---

There was nothing. 

Her body was heavy, numb and still. No matter how she tried Camilla couldn't will any of her limbs into moving, not even for her finger to twitch. No noise made it out of her throat, she couldn't even will her vocal cords into moving. Her body was stones on the bottom of a lake. Unmoving, heavy, pressed down by everything around it, pushing it into place. No will force could ever manage to move her, just as little as a simple wish could move the stones in the lake or the castle walls. Not even the searing pain that had boiled her blood could make it through, could manage to break the heavy layer of nothingness. The void had silenced all complaints her body had, had swallowed all pain and all other sensations with it. Camilla couldn't help but wonder if this is how it felt to be dead, if she couldn't move her body because it had stopped living, but no worry made it through the nothingness. All her emotions had disappeared too. No anger, no fear, no happiness. No frustration at not being able to move her body. No questions as to why she couldn't moved popped into her head. Her head was empty, her heart dry and hollow, finally at rest. There was nothing in her, nothing but quiet acceptance for her situation and heavy bones pulling her down. She didn't even feel tired, but not full of energy either. She just... existed. 

Camilla was a ghost, a trace of consciousness trapped in her dead body, floating above it, connected but not fully connected to it. She was in between worlds again, gone from the living and not yet fully dead. Perhaps her life of feeling so much, of being so much while also not being so much, had finally come to an end. Perhaps all those emotions, sensations and experienced had finally come to a halt, had gone quiet, had been swallowed by a peaceful nothingness. Maybe Camilla now was going to float through the rest of eternity the same as before, still stuck between living and dead, still being too much but not enough, still existing when she shouldn't be. But this time... Maybe she would get to do so in peace. Maybe she would never be bothered by emotions ever again, never be bothered by how others perceived her. She would never again worry about what people were saying behind her back, or how much of a disappointment she was to her mother, for not being enough. She would just exist, without anyone, even herself, having a say in it. 

She couldn't tell how exactly she felt about that, couldn't feel anything else but silent acceptance in her heart, even though she knew she only a couple of hours ago would have a storm of emotions tearing at her heart at the very prospect of an eternity like that. But now... Now she couldn't be bothered by anything, not even the idea of being dead, of living as a ghost in the castle walls. If that was her fate, she accepted it. If her fate was to finally cross over to the land of the dead, she would accept that too. She would accept whatever was about to happen. She didn't have any other choice. 

Just as she was about to drift off into the nothingness, see where the void around her took her, she could feel... something. It almost came as a shock to her, to be able to feel something, and her mind halted the drifting. She focused on the sound, honed in on it, tried to figure out what it was. It was... It was a sound. A constant, dripping sound. Small, quiet, but steady. Like the dripping of melting ice, the water hitting the window sills outside her room signaling the end of winter. It wasn't that, not really. It reminded her of melting ice, certainly, but it wasn't... it wasn't ice. It was something else. She didn't feel any curiosity, didn't even care about the sound or finding out what it was. She wanted to just accept it was there and drift away, to accept it had appeared and would stay there, but that it didn't matter. But for some reason she felt... connected to it? Yes, she was connected to it. There was something with that sound that pulled at her, that took hold of her spirit, that wouldn't let her go. It held onto her, wouldn't let her drift off, it was there and it refused to let go. But Camilla accepted that, so she let herself be pulled closer to the sound, let her mind struggle to place the sound and it's source, let herself try to figure out the riddle so the sound would be satisfied. After a while she realised it wasn't her body that was the source of the sound. Nothing her body did could be the cause of any sound, as it wasn't doing anything at all. But if she wasn't the sound, what was?... 

At the very moment she thought of it, her body suddenly moved, pulling her spirit back into it. She filled out the hollow cavities inside her body, filled her bones, gave life to the muscles, and breathed in air into the lungs. She was pulled back into her body, was forced into being aware of how it slowly opened its eye, was forced to see what the eye showed her. She didn't have anymore control than that, and her body remained as unmoving as before. But with her spirit inside it once again it managed to open the only eye that would open, and the world around her slowly came into focus. She faintly recognized the room as her own room, the familiarity of the sheets and the pillows, the dark purple, sheer canopy, the dark wood of her own bed. She was in her own room, and something there was the noise. Camilla's open eye travelled around, glancing up and down over the familiar room, looking for what had brought her back. It was the only motion she was able to do, her body still deep asleep, a tomb her spirit had been buried. She didn't even manage to turn her head. Luckily, she didn't have to. The noise she had heard was close to her, sitting a little down her bed, and Camilla could see it clearly enough without turning her head. Her father was sitting on her bed, staying far away from her unmoving body, but still closer than Camilla had had him since midwinter. His cape and crown were gone, his blonde locks welling down over the cover of his jacket unhindered by either of the regalia. He looked exhausted, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his head in one hand. It was terrifying in it's familiarity, she had never seen her father looking so tired before. He had been unshakeable in Camilla's eyes, confident and calm, like nothing could get to him. Not even when the corners of his mouth were turned down in annoyance, or his eyes held a hard and steady glare in them, had he looked like this... Leaned over, fingers curled into Camilla's sheets, dry tears still stuck on his cheeks. Never before had Camilla felt the urge to throw her arms around him, to comfort him. It had always been the other way around. His low voice was thick with grief and worry, a low buzz of sadness that Camilla recognized as the sound that had brought her back to reality again. 

"I should never have let this happen", her father mumbled as Camilla finally managed to tune in enough to hear his words. Something small stirred within Camilla's chest, but the emotion fled as soon as it appeared, returning her to the numbness once more. "I should never have... should never have..." 

A deep sigh went out Garon, and at the movement he deflated, slouching down over himself, as his own weight was too much for him. Camilla closed her eye for a moment, too tired to keep it open for so long, longed for her return to the darkness. 

"I nearly lost him", Garon mumbled quietly. "I nearly lost our son."

... Ah. He wasn't talking to her. He was sitting at her bedside, but his thoughts were with Xander and Katerina. He was speaking to his late wife, asking her forgiveness. Camilla quietly wondered if she haunted him as well, if the icey flame burning in the darkness at Midwinter was directed against her father just as much as it was directed at her? She kept her eye closed, not finding the energy to care. The notion came and went in her mind, but she couldn't muster up the energy to hold on to it as it floated away. How badly she wanted to sleep. 

A courteous knock on the door was all the warning they received before the door was pushed open. A healer stepped in, Camilla knew it before they even entered her line of sight. Only healers tending to patients had the courage to enter a room without permission first, not even from their monarch. The healers steps were quiet on the thick carpet, only visible as a shadow in the darkness until they reached Camilla's bed. 

"Your Majesty", the healer said, and Camilla noted distantly that the voice was feminine. When she didn't receive an answer the healer braved to move closer, to stand before her king even as he was grieving the near loss of his children. Or was it near? Perhaps he had lost them. Camilla couldn't tell if she was meant to be alive or not. 

"How is my son?" Garon asked, his voice even but still thick. 

"He's sleeping. He'll live, Majesty", the healer reported. "His heart stopped a couple times-" 

"A couple?!" 

"We had three healers working on him at the same time, my king. Not many would survive that. But his heart is beating properly again, and he's sleeping. His injuries are still grave and will need a lot of attention, but the worst has passed. He will live." 

"He will... He will live..." 

Camilla managed to open her eye again, and as she glanced up to where her father was she noticed the healer. She was petite, with a lean body, seeming so small next to the king, even as he was sitting down. Her hair was put up in a sensible hairdo. One meant to keep her hair out of her eyes during work, not one of the overly complicated ones Mary forced Camilla into all the time. Camilla couldn't see the healer's eyes in the darkness, but she could see how close she was to Garon. How she leaned forward a little bit even though she didn't have to as she repeated it once again. "He will live." At the words Garon lunged forward, throwing his arms around the healer's waist, trapping her in his embrace. He hugged her tightly as he finally broke down, crying with relief, fear and worry against her shoulder. The healer simply allowed it. She gently put her hands on Garon's shoulders, comforting him as he cried, repeating those words over and over again. He will live. He will live. He will live. In the dim light of the candles Camilla noticed the small smile on the healer's lips as she comforted her king. A stray lock of blonde hair fell down, having escaped it's tight confines of the hairdo. It glimmered like gold in the candlelight. If the healer had focused on her job, had focused on her duties to her patients, if she had speared even a glance at the girl hovering between life and death in the room, she would have noticed that Camilla's eye was open, observing her. But she didn't, and Camilla remained floating where she was, only connected to reality through the image of the hugging pair, until darkness once again pulled her away. 

\---

The next time Camilla opened her eyes the pain had been reduced. It was still there, pulsating in her eye, but it was less now. The fire had died down to an ember, a burning core of pain, throbbing with every beat of her heart, but preferable to lava or fire. It didn't make her want to scream anymore. It didn’t swallow her mind in it’s whitehot hell. Now as she blinked her other eye open, gasping and groaning at the small ember of pain, she was aware of what was happening around her again. She wasn’t a ghost anymore, and she didn’t wish she was dead. She was a living, breathing girl, and even though the pain was present it wasn’t the only thing that existed anymore. Camilla reached up to her eye, fingertips searching for the blood she had felt boiling at her skin before, but only found a bandage. With a sigh she let her hand fall. She wasn’t numb anymore, but neither her energy or her emotions had returned enough for her to bother thinking about the bandage. Her head was throbbing, but it wasn't as bad as it had been earlier.

"Good morning, milady."

The familiar voice stirred up a few spots of happiness in Camilla's chest. Something safe, something she could trust. The familiar sense of happiness, of emotion, made her want to cling to it, made her want to wrap them around her heart, no matter how dim they might be. She glanced to the side, searching for the owner of the voice, hoping to find more of those spots of emotions. But as she found Mary right next to her bed, on a tiny chair and with knitting needles in her hands, the happiness only faded even more, replaced by the consuming numbness. Mary put down the needles in her lap, and simply looked at the princess. Camilla noticed that her nanny looked tired, more tired than she looked when Camilla had been pulling pranks and she had to once again bring Camilla to Cecilia's wrath. There were lines in her face that hadn't been there before. Dark circles were prominent under her small eyes that seemed glossy with the lack of sleep. The perfect uniform and hairdo felt too spotless, lifeless, a pretty carpet to hide the stains on the floor. Guilt stirred in Camilla's chest, certain that it must somehow be her fault that Mary looked so very tired.

"What...?" Camilla begun, but her voice failed her. It felt rough and hoarse in her voice, bringing more pain into her world. 

"You're in your room", Mary said simply. "The healers brought you here when the worst danger had passed. His Majesty has been here a lot, but I suspect he is with the prince right now."

Emotions cascaded down over her, sweeping the numbness away as her heart was hit with the full force of her forgotten emotions. She gasped from pain and shock as the memories returned together with her emotions. Xander lying in the snow, blood splattered over him, his eyes closed as the guards struggled to get him awake. The grief in Garon’s voice as he sat next to her, waiting for her to wake up. The healer reporting in. The sound of Xander’s screams rang in Camilla's ears, dragging one out of her as well, the emotions, pain and memories suffocating her, drowning her in their intensity. Her chest heaved, her lungs struggling to find air among the wild array of emotions, her voice turning dry and rough in her throat as she continued to scream in fear and pain. 

"Calm down, milady", Mary said, her hands on Camilla’s shoulders. If it was to comfort her or hold her down Camilla couldn’t tell. Mary’s voice cut high, fighting to be heard through Camilla’s screams. "Milady! There’s no need to be afraid! Calm yourself.”

Camilla’s voice faltered once more, her exhausted, aching body not having the strength to keep going. Tears pooled in her eyes from the exhaustion and fear, emotions and memories attacking her mind and heart. But as her body gave up the panic, as she slowly eased down on the bed, Mary took it as a sign Camilla was calming down, and continued talking softly to her. 

“His Highness is well, milady. Or... as well as he can be. He lives, at least. And it seems he will do so quite a while yet, as long as we give him time to heal and rest."

Answering would hurt too much, so Camilla opted for staring up in the roof again. Ever so slowly the flood of emotions calmed down to a still lake. She could feel the dangerous undercurrents ripping through her, threatening to drown her if she dared explore the lake too much, but she could carefully sift through the surface without disturbing the lake. The pieces of what had happened came back to her, one by one, first disconnected, then slowly fitting together to show her what had happened. The guards, the healers putting her to sleep, playing in the snow. The burning pain in her eye. Snow drifting down over them, grieving their fallen winter prince. Sitting on her knees in the snow, unable to do anything as Xander screamed in pain... And...

"Mother", Camilla whispered. She didn't turn her head. She didn't dare to look a Mary, afraid of the trembling that shook the lake’s surface as she spoke. But she needed to know, needed to understand. So she pushed on. "What happened with mother?"

"She-" Mary paused for a moment, and just looked at Camilla. Her eyes went over Camilla's face, stuck at the bandage over her eye for a moment too long before moving on. Her mouth was a thin line as she stared at Camilla, the twitch of the corner of her mouth betraying the storm of emotions underneath her own motionless surface. Then she sighed, and picked up her knitting needles again. "It's nothing you should concern yourself over, milady. Go to sleep. I'll wake you when His Majesty comes next time."

Yesterday Camilla wouldn't have let the conversation end there. She would have pulled in Mary's sleeve, would have begged and demanded to know the answer, would have annoyed Mary to get her way until Mary would yell at her. But now... She couldn't find the energy to do that. The lake had finally calmed again, and Camilla knew if she asked more questions it would cause a storm. She didn’t have the strength to weather another tempest, so she let the questions die on her tongue instead of voicing them. She focused on the roof above her, and waited until she, accompanied by the clicking of the knitting needles, slowly drifted off to sleep.

\---

The brush went gently through Camilla's hair, as Camilla stared at herself in the mirror in the vanity. The mirror hadn't been replaced, and the cracks still ran over it, splitting her face. She had always hated the brushing, but now she was quiet and still in her chair as Mary brushed and brushed. The ritual was solemn, a lingering trace of how her life was supposed to be. How it had been, just a week ago. But now her life was cracked, splitting and distorting the images of the familiar rituals, only held together by the framework around it. Camilla clutched the front of her dress. The brush ran through her hair.

"Why does Father want me in the great hall today?" Camilla asked quietly.

"I don't know, milady", Mary replied as she put the brush down and picked up the pins. Her voice was tight, her reply short and to the point, just like they had been ever since the day in the snow. They had never have a good relation, but now that Camilla had been confined to her room as she was healing Mary was the only familiar face left. Her friends around the castle couldn’t sneak in to visit the princess, her father hadn’t be back since that night when Camilla hadn’t be truly alive, and Xander… Xander had been locked up in his room as well. Mary gave her sparse reports on her brother’s condition, that he was getting better with the added help of healers. They were only a couple sentences long in the best case, but Camilla still knew fairly well how her brother was when she overheard the servants gossiping with each other. They didn’t say a word when Mary was in the room, but when they were there on their own and Camilla pretended to be asleep in her bed they whispered to each other over her head. It was that way Camilla found out that even as Xander was starting to make it out of bed, able to sit up for longer, he still wasn’t allowed outside. That even when the danger had passed and Xander’s energy returned, there was still only a handful that was allowed to see him. Guards turned away everyone from servants to nobles, no matter their errand, unless they had received permission from the king to enter Xander’s rooms. Not even all of the healers could make it past the guards, as only a couple had received Garon’s approval. Xander had been locked away from the world. 

Camilla’s isolation had been less forceful. No one had received orders to keep people out of her room, but not many came. Even after Camilla wasn’t bedridden anymore she hadn’t opened her door more than a handful of times. The first time had been out of an urge to have things return to normal. To attend her lessons like usual, as her duty as princess was. It hadn’t taken long for the hateful or pitiful stares she received to drain her energy, and she was back in her room before long. Not even the teachers wanted to be near her, either cold and distant, outright spiteful, or hiding underneath a blanket of forced politeness. Some played along with her need for normalcy and taught as her before, some ignored her, and some spat at her that they didn’t want traitor’s blood close to them. When Mary that afternoon had suggested that Camilla continue her studies in her room instead, without the teachers, Camilla hadn’t protested. She had made the trip down to kitchen in hopes of talking with Alicia, but had been stopped in the door by another kitchen servant explaining that they all were very busy preparing the dinner and if she didn’t have any urgent business could she perhaps wait? She had tried visiting Atulf, but been told a soldier passing the courtyard where the Nesting Tower was that Atulf was busy with a sick wyvern in the caverns. After that Camilla hadn’t tried leaving her room again, and she spent her days staring out the window, wishing deeper than ever that she could soar high up over the castle, leave the cage that closed in tighter and tighter on her. 

To receive a summon from her father was rare enough as it was, but to have to leave her room and subject herself to the glares, gossips and insults was more than she thought she could manage. She had wondered about the reason behind her summoning, but couldn’t find any reason he would want to drag her out of her room. If he wanted to talk to her he could easily just show up at her door. But no one rejected a summon from the king, not even his children, so Camilla let Mary dress her up just like old times. She felt a bit like a doll in Mary’s hands, being washed, dressed and made pretty. She didn’t reflect over how she looked like, how long her hair had been brushed, what dress had been picked out for her. She was just staring ahead, watching the cracks in the mirror, as she was dressed. 

A knock was heard on the door, and Mary took out one of the hairpins from her mouth to shout "enter!" as she pulled up another hair strand to put in it's right place. The door opened, and Camilla glanced to the side as much as she could without moving her head and ruining the hairdo. Mary pulled her eyes from her work to see who the visitor was, and then promptly flew out of the chair. With one hand on Camilla's head to keep the hair strand in its proper place she quickly executed a curtsy to the guest.

"Your Majesty, my apologies, I..."

"No concern", Garon said, waving away the apologies as he strode up to Camilla. At the sound of her father's voice Camilla ignored the consequences her hair would suffer and whipped her head up to look at the man before her. Every word she wanted to say died in her throat, and she was left staring up at her father with her mouth slightly open. It had been so long since she saw him, and as she felt the pang in her heart upon seeing him she finally realised how much she had missed him. He reached out a hand and it ghosted over her head, before he changed his mind and put it on her shoulder instead.

"Good morning, Camilla", he said quietly. He was wearing full regalia this time, the perfect image of the powerful king. The cape lay heavily on his shoulders, the crown black like ink, demanding respect and obedience. His eyes were filled with sorrow and pain, but Camilla still found herself clinging to that. There was warmth and safety in her father's presence. He was the only one in the castle that talked to her for longer periods, that looked at her with a smile instead of hate, who gently stroke her cheek in an offer of comfort. Camilla could stand the sad eyes as long as it meant her father was there to hold her.

"Good morning, Father!" she said, smiling in hopes that it would take away some of the pain and sorrow in his eyes. But for some reason it only seemed to make it worse, and she quickly let her smile fall.

"Camilla", he said, and his voice was thick with grief, as he stroke her cheek. "My lovely daughter..." Camilla wished she knew how to wipe that grief away. It scared her to see her strong, safe father so terribly sad. To see him sad was like seeing a sky deep red in the middle of the day, terrifying, and deeply, deeply wrong. 

"Today is a very important day", Garon said, still stroking Camilla's cheek, but regaining control over his composure. "I need you to do something, my dear. It will be difficult, and it will be hard, but it's very important.”

She nodded slowly, worry brewing in her stomach. What did she have to do? Was that why her father was sad? 

"Camilla", Garon said, and placed his hand on her other cheek as well, holding her in his hands. "Cecilia did something terrible to you and Xander, something no one, especially a parent, should ever do. She hurt you, and she hurt your brother, and I need you to…” His voice faltered for a second before he pulled himself together and tried again. “You know what happened when the two of you were playing in the snow. Camilla, you and I are going to the great hall, and you will have to tell some people there what happened. They will ask you a lot of questions about it. It might be a bit scary, but all you have to do is tell the truth, and I will be there the entire time. No one will hurt you, I promise. Okay?"

"...Okay."

Garon nodded, and placed a kiss on Camilla's forehead, his scruffy short beard tickling her. He leaned back for a moment, looked at her for a second. He let his hands fall, and Camilla expected him to leave. That was probably his plan too, but when he looked her in her only remaining eye he collapsed over her, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He hugged her tightly for a moment, as if to convince himself she was truly there, truly alive. Camilla’s face was met with the white fur of her father’s cape, the warmth of her father’s arms around her, and the overwhelming love in the embrace. It made Camilla want to cry. She felt safe for the first time in so long, knowing her father would protect her no matter what. She was safe, right there, in that second. Then Garon let go off her, and turned towards the door, composing himself again.

"I'll be outside. We'll leave when you're done", he said as the guards opened the door for him, and Camilla could only numbly nod. The door fell shut, leaving Camilla alone with Mary yet again. Alone, and without her protection. Without the one safety she had left. It was quiet for a moment, as Camilla and Mary watched the door in silence. With a sigh Mary picked up her pins once again, and continued with her work on the hairdo.

"So they're holding the trial today after all", Mary mumbled to herself as she pinned a strand of hair in its place. Camilla looked into the mirror, following the cracks with her eyes, up until the middle. The place where the brush had made contact with the mirror, during the storm. When the glass had shattered, an unregrettable action. Yet it still served it’s function as well as it could, reflecting Camilla back to her. Camilla looked at the black eyepatch that covered her broken eye, the eye not even the best healers in the castle could save. Garon wanted her to tell the people in the great hall what had happened that day, when her eye had been broken beyond repair. 

“I wonder if Mother will be there”, Camilla suddenly said, feeling Mary’s finger stiffen in her hair. “I haven’t seen her in so long.” 

Mary remained silent for a while, her hands motionless. Her head was turned away, so Camilla couldn’t catch the look in her face, but the mirror still dutifully reflected the way Mary’s lip trembled. It took a couple moments too long until Mary answered her, her voice holding a tiny tremble in it. 

“I have a feeling you might, milady.” 

\---

"For the attempted murder of Crown Prince Xander and Princess Camilla, for inflicting life threatening wounds on each of them, and for the mutilation of Princess Camilla, the Crown finds Lady Cecilia guilty of high treason. The punishment for high treason, which is branding and beheading, will be carried out in three days."

\---

_ High treason. _

Heavy steps fell on the stone, accompanied by the sound of labored breath.

_ Guilty of high treason. _

Her lungs burned. Her feet ached trying to run in the heels she had been forced into. The dress was stiff, in the way, and bothersome. But she didn't care. She ran.

_ Lady Cecilia guilty of high treason. _

Camilla dashed through the hallway, towards the only person she could trust in the castle. Her support was gone, her safety robbed from her. The one place she had left were she felt safe and protected had turn cold, had ripped her mother from her. Even as he tried to comfort her after the trial Camilla couldn’t find the warmth in it anymore. All the warmth in the castle was turning cold as stone, leaving her alone to rot in her tomb of stone. Not even the lava could warm the hearts of the castle’s inhabitants. Yet Camilla ran, putting the last of her hopes on one last person. There was only one left who wasn't a storm, who didn't look at her with pity or hatred, who didn't talk to her in a short and tight voice. Only one who still felt safe. 

_ The Crown finds Lady Cecilia guilty of high treason. _

Camilla's eye was blurry with tears when she finally came to a stop. Her legs shook from the exhaustion, her breath heavy and shallow, her shoulders shook both with tears and the shock of her body moving more in the last two minutes than the past two weeks. Camilla pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face as she stared up at the only thing keeping her from the only one left who could offer comfort. The guards looked back down at her.

"I-I...", Camilla gasped, struggling to get the words out between heavy breaths, mustering up all the authority and status she could. "I want to see Xander."

"No one is allowed to see the prince, milady."

"Why not?!" Camilla shrieked as her patience finally snapped. Her voice tore at her tired throat, stabbing in the neck on it's way out. Broken glass shards that cut her vocal cords. Her own voice had turned against her, hurting her, like everything else. 

"Because no one is allowed to see him", the guard repeated, growing annoyed. It was hardly the first time he had had to say that to the princess. "By the King's orders. Now move along."

"But he's my brother!"

"That doesn't matter! For the last time, no one is allowed through these doors! No one who doesn’t have the king’s personal permission is allowed inside! You, and the rest of your siblings, are not allowed to see him! Not a single one of you. So go away."

Camilla's nails dug into the skin of her palms. Her teeth bit harshly into her lip, her shoulders trembling as the words sank in. Of course. That's all she was, wasn't she? One of them. One of the siblings, an insult to Queen Katerina, a disgrace. A stain on the royal family tree, something that shouldn’t even exist. Now... now she was also the daughter of a traitor.

“What’s going on?” a voice said, and Camilla’s blood turned to ice in her veins. The door to Xander’s room had been pushed open just a bit, enough to reveal a healer. The black and white robes fell around her petite body, a gentle hug of fabric around her form. A polished healing staff was in her hand, as if she was trying to really underline that she was, in fact, a healer. Her blonde hair was up in a simple hairdo, but now with two locks who remained free, one on each side of her face, framing it softly. Her purple eyes caught Camilla, quietly judging the ruffled skirts, the loosening hairdo, the red shades on her cheek, a redness that only grew in intensity as Camilla found herself face to face with the healer who had embraced her father in the dead of night. This was the woman who was in charge of Xander’s health? She was allowed inside when Camilla hadn’t seen her own brother in weeks? A polite smile played on the healer’s lips, and Camilla dug her nails harder into her palms to keep herself from slapping the woman. 

“Your Highness”, she greeted, her voice like the golden flowers on naming ceremonies. Gorgeous, blinding with its shining gold, but fake and lifeless. “Here to visit the prince, I presume? He needs to rest right now, but if you would like I can ask the king to-” 

The heel of her shoe groaned against the floor as Camilla spun around, and dashed away. She ran as fast as she could through the hallways. Tears stuck in her throat, piling up, choking her. Rage burned in her heart, fueling her body with every beat of her heart, the burning flames of rage spreading through her body like lava. It pushed on the ball of tears in her throat, burning and boiling inside her. Camilla tore at the pearls on her neck to get the necklace to loosen so she could breathe. The lock finally snapped under the abuse, and she tore it off her neck, throwing it to the side. The sound of the pearls cracking against the floor was already far off, only a faint whisper as Camilla continued down the halls. Yet, even when the pearls were broken on the floor, Camilla still couldn't breathe.

Was this how mother had felt during the storm? That no matter how many things broke, how many shards of glass littered the floor, she still couldn't breathe? Had the ghost of Katerina, lingering by Garon's side, ever present in Xander's golden locks and red eyes, choked her until she would do anything to breathe again? Anything... Even try to kill the last remnant of Katerina, to be free? To try to kill even her own daughter? The wound in Camilla's eye burned, harsher and hotter than the fire in her lungs and neck. Tears ran down her cheek, blurring her vision to the point where she couldn't even see where she was running.

It wasn't until her fingers scraped against stone that she noticed her surroundings. The cold air that stabbed her in the throat as she struggled to breathe. The stone, rough and sharp against her fingers, digging into her flesh and drawing blood. The steps that continued up, up and up, until Camilla thought she might reach the clouds, and then opened up. It wasn't until she stood in the doorway to the vast space that she stopped running.

Her heart was running away in her chest, her breathing was still fast and shallow, her entire body trembling from exhaustion and the sheer terror of her own emotions. The great hall that opened up before her, the soft darkness that beckoned her forward. That wrapped itself around her, welcoming her home, and Camilla stumbled forward to greet it. The heel of her shoe snapped, sending her falling into a dusty desk. Camilla coughed as a cloud of dust rose from the wood, swirling in the air before finally settling once more. A faint memory of snow swirling in the air around hair floated past before her eyes. Her breath hitched in her throat again, and she pushed herself from the desk, kicking her shoes off in the process.

She let them lie on the floor, and instead ventured out to the middle of the room. The spot right above the chandelier in the ballroom. On ball nights she and Xander would hear faint music trickling in from below as the band warmed up. Music Xander would sing, sitting on top of a barrel, as Camilla danced with Clara in the stables and Briana laughed at her sister's clumsy tries to waltz. Music Xander would play over and over again at the piano until his fingers hurt, as Camilla practised the same piece with the violin. They had always been together. They had been inseparable. They had always been here, in this room, together, protecting each other and standing strong against the darkness.

Now she was here all alone. No one to protect her from the darkness, and no one to offer protection in return. No one's hand to hold for comfort during scary ghost stories or lectures from teachers. No one to smile with, laugh with, play with. She was all alone.

Finally the sobs broke free from her chest. Heavy sobs that shook her shoulders and struggled through her throat. Big drops that fell from her only eye, as she sniffled. Slowly she let herself fall to her knees on the carpet, right by the spot she and Xander put the candle during the harvest festival. Camilla curled in on herself, pulling herself down to a ball as she lied down on her side on the carpet. Her hair rubbed against the carpet, sweeping up the dirt and old dust. As she noticed she had hair hanging down over her face she realised that her hairdo had been messed up. Behind her there were probably a few hairpins scattered through the hallways. Had she pulled a few ones out when she tore the necklace off? She couldn't remember. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realised that she was lying in dust and dirt. Her dress must be really dirty. However, as she remained on the floor, her wails carried off by the eternal darkness in the room, she realised she no longer cared about her dress. There was no one there to punish her for it anymore either way.

\---

The hallways of Castle Krakenburg were always full of life. They bristled with energy as servants ran through, as nobles strided down, as the guards kept a watchful eye over the place. The voices, laughter and yells mixed together into a blanket of sound that filled the air, obscuring and distorting the space. No matter what, there was always some living thing in the hallways, some beating heart that added onto the pulse of the castle.

To see the hallways empty unnerved Camilla. It felt wrong. The silence itched in her skin, made her chew on her lip as she tried to push away the feeling of being misplaced. She had the creeping feeling that she wasn't supposed to be there, in the lifeless halls.The constant beating of the combined pulse of all the castle's inhabitants had slowed down into an eerie silence. The pulse of the castle was gone, and Camilla's own was out of sync, not enough to fill the entire castle.

The lights in the hallways had gone out. Winter's Ease had come and gone, but the snow still lay heavy over Windmire. Winter still ruled the hallways of the castle. Cold darkness welled in through the windows, only lit up by the dim ghostly light of the pipes. Icey darkness and orange glow, a burning cold, a flame of ice. Cecilia had always despised spring, had always succumbed so easily to the shift in seasons. But winter wasn't swayed so easily. It would still be a long while until it released it's relentless grip of the castle. Yet, when Camilla found herself standing in front of the portrait obscured by darkness, she didn't advert her eyes. As Katerina stared down at her, Camilla stared back.

Katerina was a tall woman, towering over the castle's residents even in death. The deep red fabric of her dress clung to strong muscles forged by combat. Her fingers clutched Siegfried in a confident, strong grasp. She had been a warrior queen. She had won Garon's heart on the battlefield, and met her demise on the battlefield. She had never been one to bend to anyone, her presence imposing and intimidating. In the dim light from the pipes, the darkness hugging the edges of the frame, she was truly terrifying. But Camilla stood her ground, staring back at the portrait. It didn't matter anymore what Katerina thought of her, or of her mother. Because right now there was only one heart beating in the castle's hallway, only one pulse that echoed against the dark stone. Katerina was dead, and Camilla was alive. She wouldn't fall the same way her mother had. She wouldn't let her life be dictated by the dead.

"Camilla?"

It took a moment for Camilla to tear her eyes off the painting, for her to sway from her staring competition, but the moment she did all thoughts of Katerina was wiped from her mind. Because in the hallway, his pale skin glowing in the dim light, contrasting against the dark clothes shrouded in shadows, Xander was standing. Camilla could only stare for a second, her breath caught in her throat. The last time they had seen each other...

All the traces of blood had been wiped away, not a single trace left from the incident. The bandages that Camilla knew had to be there were hidden underneath layers of clothing, and for the unknowing eye Xander would have looked just as usual. His wounds were carefully hidden, they weren't glaringly visible for everyone to see like Camilla's was. But Camilla could see the pain in Xander's face, the deep worry that was visible in the way he hesitated before her. Guilt filled his eyes when he saw the aftermath Camilla had suffered, and for a moment he looked an awful lot like their father.

"Camilla, I'm-" Xander began, biting his lip. But Camilla didn't give him the chance to finish, his stuttering voice drowning in the loud clicking of Camilla's heels against the floor as she dashed forward and wrapped her arms around him. Xander stumbled backwards, caught off guard with the sudden added weight of his sister against his chest and her arms around his waist. His heels slid over the stone as he tried to find his balance, instinctively wrapping his arms around Camilla for support. Yet even when he found it he kept his arms around Camilla, clinging to her just as desperately as she clung to him. Camilla squeezed him tightly, as if to prove that he really was there, standing in front of her. The brother she hadn't seen for so long, that had been swept away from her when she needed him the most, the support she finally found again. The only one who didn't look at her with pity or scorn, the only one whose voice didn't go tight with hatred when he spoke to her, the only one who wanted her around. Xander, who clung to her tightly, his shoulders trembling.

"I'm so sorry, Camilla", he whispered, "I'm so very sorry."

"I'm sorry too", she replied.

"I should have been there during the trial, I should have been there when you were healing, I should have, Father wouldn't, C-Camilla..."

Xander buried his face in Camilla's hair, his shoulders trembling worse as his voice faltered, stumbling over the apologies that flowed out of his mouth. He sniffled weakly, and Camilla hugged him tighter. Tears burned in her eye as well, but it was tears of relief, tears of finally not being alone anymore. So all she did was continue to cling to Xander until the apologies dried out, until both their tears stopped flowing, until they could finally look at each other again, and smile. Teary giggles filled the dark hallway, as they both dried their cheeks.

"How did you even get out?" Camilla finally asked as Xander wiped some leftover tears from his cheeks.

"Well... Do you remember that one passageway that we couldn't figure out how to open?"

"Yes?"

A mischievous and proud smile lit up Xander's face. The smile that had been so close to be extinguished that day out in the snow, but now was as strong as ever.

"That's because it can only be opened from the other side... that happens to be inside my room."

Camilla looked at Xander, trying to detect any sign of jokes in his strong smile and glittering eyes, but there was nothing there. Nothing but a proud smile from outsmarting his father's guards, from disappearing from the locked cage without anyone the wiser. As Camilla's thoughts wandered back to the guards that were now standing guard outside an empty room, a giggle bubbled up from within her. It grew, building up to a laughter that spilled over her lips, echoing in the empty hallway. It was soon mixed with Xander's laugh. It was at that moment, when Camilla laughed so hard her stomach hurt, a smile stretched out over her face, that Camilla realised it had been a long time since she had smiled too.

Their giggles continued to echo against the stone, unstoppable even if either of them had wished to quiet them down, as they opened the door to the secret passageways. Under Katerina's watchful gaze and warm smile they disappeared through the wall, hand in hand, leaving Katerina to watch over the empty hallway behind them.

\---

In the morning the whole castle was shaking. The wrath of king Garon wasn’t a beast many wanted to wake up. It was in his rage that the lineage of dragon could be seen the clearest, fire spitting from his mouth as he roared out insults and orders intertwined with each other. His eyes burned, his dragon blood carrying and fueling the whitehot rage. Wrath fueled by worry was by far the worst of them all, as the guards soon became aware of when the king learned that two of his children had disappeared. The entire floor was able to hear the fire that Garon roared, drowning out the guards' confused attempts at trying to explain themselves, and before Garon had even sent the rest of his guards out to find his missing children the entire castle knew. Whispers filled the air, flinging between servants as they rushed through the hallways, trying to gossip out of sight from their superiors. Panicked guards struggled to search through the castle, praying to any god they could think of that the missing two would turn up safe and sound. Royal children played as their mothers drew up theories in hushed voices. Had Camilla taken on the role of traitor, finishing the task her wicked mother had set out to do? Or perhaps... 

Where the hallways last night had been dark and empty, they were now filled with the bustle of life, the rapid heartbeat of every inhabitant beating out a symphony of confused energy. The castle was bursting at the seams, trying to contain the myriad of people that ran through the hallways, whispering the news over breakfast teacups and bent over chores. The new gossip ignited the old ones of the traitor Cecilia, and new information melted together with old, as wild theories were shared. Alicia listened closely to the stories, but didn’t say as much as a word. But she made sure that the teacup hid her smile. Atulf didn’t know exactly what was happening, placed as remote as he was, but as he fed Cynane he had a feeling that there was something happening in the castle, something that his favourite royal was the cause of, no doubt. The only ones who were unable to gossip were Briana and Clara in the stables, kept too busy by the stable master to allow a moment to stop and share the theories and tales they had been told. But the two didn't need to, all they had to do was share a look at the mention of the news, and a smile. 

But Camilla and Xander were blissfully unaware of the flames that spread in the castle. The room they were in was comfortably silent, with not even the faintest trace of the gossip pushing through the cold stone. The dust lay around them as a blanket, sticking to their clothes and the old furniture that had been left to rot. The two of them were curled up against an old desk, their conversation the only sound that could be heard in the vast, dark space around them. Hunger rumbled in their empty stomachs, yet they remained, unwilling to face the light of day just yet. Their last candle was steadily burning on the floor in front of them, the burned through remains of its predecessors scattered around it. Outside the wavering light the darkness filled the space, curled up around the two children. It wasn't much left of their candle, and soon the darkness would swallow them. Yet Camilla felt no unease, no anxious fear of the darkness. Because this time, when her eyes drifted out to the empty spaces around them, to the darker corners out of her sight, she still couldn't find the despise of the dead closing in on her. There was nothing out there that despised her anymore, and now the darkness that wrapped itself tighter around them felt more like a gentle blanket than a hungry wolf ready to devour her. 

So even when the candle at last faltered, the darkness sweeping in over them, Camilla remained calm next to her brother, secure in the knowledge that nothing would harm her. 

\---

No matter what happened, they were there for each other, through anything. They always had been, and they always would be. 

Camilla and Xander were inseparable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this took me forever to edit. I was planning on getting this chapter out earlier, didn't mean to lave you all on a cliffhanger so to say, but work has been crazy lately, to say the least. 
> 
> Enjoy some more headcanons of mine about healing magic, and also some headcanons of Elise's mother (yup, that's the healer). 
> 
> Thank you guys for staying with me during this! I'm really proud of this, and it was a story I just haven't been able to get out of my head before I finished it. I hope you guys enjoyed it as well! 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are highly apprecieated!

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all have no idea how long this has been in my drafts. It's only gotten longer and longer. I was originally planning to have it be a single chapter, but as I was watching the word count go up and up I decided to cut it into three shorter chapters. 
> 
> Anyways  
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are highly apprecieated!


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